


What We Trade Our Hearing For

by RiversOnFire



Category: North and South - Elizabeth Gaskell, North and South - Elizabeth Gaskell | UK TV, Richard Armitage - Fandom, john Thornton - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Atlanta, Drama & Romance, F/M, Guns, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-31
Updated: 2019-09-25
Packaged: 2019-10-01 13:03:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 24
Words: 74,932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17244710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RiversOnFire/pseuds/RiversOnFire
Summary: What if Margaret was an event photographer and John owned a concert venue? A modern AU story, set in the not-quite-current day United States. Starts with the beginning and will end after HEA, with some drama along the way.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I've recently completed a deeper read of AO3's rules, and have decided to update the chapters here with their intended opening lyrics because I feel they are important to the tone of the story. I hadn't used them here previously because I wasn't sure about the rules regarding song lyrics. In the near future the chapters here will more closely match those on my Wattpad. Sorry for any confusion this might cause! 
> 
> Also, here is the accompanying YouTube playlist.
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLzo8ckv0bFAyKzv9ndrCMKhTT90H6Oomd

_“Forget yourself,_  
_This room is hot but we can make it hotter with your help._  
_I’ll dance with you.  
_ _We’ll dance together until everybody’s moving too.”_

-Bronze Radio Return

_Maggie_

Maggie can hear the bass thumping through the street as she approaches the address her new friend, Becca, had given her. The ramshackle building in front of her was almost completely black, oddly misshapen, seemingly impossible to tell the true size from the outside, with a small marquee and a neon sign proclaiming that this shack was indeed “The Mills” that Becca had told her about. Becca was a friend of a friend of a friend, Maggie’s sole contact in this new and surprisingly foreign city to which she had decided to decamp. In the post-breakup fallout with her not-so-serious boyfriend, Henry, and with her mother’s health continuously failing, Maggie thought a change of scenery was in order. What else can you do when your not-so-serious boyfriend decides you were far more serious all along, and suddenly tells you he has planned your entire life, kids and house and all? Maggie tried to trace back their relationship to the point where Henry could have gotten the impression that she wanted all that. Although she supposed, she did want all that at some point, just not with Henry. And maybe that’s where she went wrong, maybe she wasn’t as clear about her intentions throughout their relationship. But if that was the case, then Henry certainly wasn’t clear about his intentions either. Who proposes these days when you haven’t even discussed it with your intended victim?

The bass suddenly explodes into the street as a door is opened, pulling Maggie from her musings. “Maggie! There you are. I was wondering if you got lost or something, though I don’t suppose this place is easy to miss with all the usual commotion.” A small blonde came scurrying down a set of stairs that Maggie had not noticed while trying to take in the full conglomeration of the building in front of her. “I’m working the bar tonight, but managed to slip away for a minute. I was going to try to call you; there’s no service in the Mills, though obviously, you managed just fine on your own! Come on, let’s scootch back inside,” Becca babbled on as she pulled Maggie towards a door situated under a trembling overhang. On further inspection, the entire building itself was shaking and looked ready to fall down at any second.

“Here, Maggie, this is my brother Nick,” Becca gestured to the large man leaning against the doorway, presumably the bouncer for this fine establishment. He had a kind, round face, with several days’ worth of stubble, and looked like he could definitely be intimidating if he needed to be. Nick smiled and opened the door for the girls. “Better get inside or you’ll miss the headliner, Becks,” he said, ushering them inside with the wave of a large hand.

As they walked up the cold stone stairs, the music stopped, and the sound of cheering and clapping poured down the staircase. “The opener band just finished, so I have to get back to the bar real quick while the next band sets up,” Becca said as she led Maggie through a large doorway and towards the back of the room. While Becca served the mob of people wanting drinks, Maggie took the opportunity to check out her surroundings. The room was big, but felt somehow claustrophobic, and was very hot. She was already regretting the jeans she’d decided on for her first night out in her new city. She noticed Becca had on black shorts and wished she would have had the forethought to dress more comfortably. Since this was her first night out and had the potential to meet colleagues and clients, she had wanted to look at least semi-professional. But obviously, things were a bit more casual here than they were back home.

Her eyes moved across the room towards the stage on the opposite side. The wood floor was old and scuffed, and up on the high ceiling, the ductwork was suspended by winch straps, as you would see on a flatbed truck. There was what looked like a single air vent for the entire room, and what little air it moved was humid and heavy. The ceiling itself was old raw wood planks and beams, and there were support poles scattered about the room. The entire place looked like it was held together with duct tape, bubble gum, and a prayer.

The people were interesting as well. Maggie wasn’t super familiar with the bands playing tonight, but the group of people in front of her weren’t what she would have expected from what she knew of the acts. There was a wide range of ages and races, old men with beards and young guys with dreads. Women in mom jeans and wannabe hipster teenyboppers. Everyone was laughing and mingling together while they waited for the main attraction, and more than a few people seemed sloppy drunk. A lot of people seemed to be friends- or at least friendly- with each other, even if they were with obviously different groups.

One person, in particular, stood out to Maggie. He was tall, tall enough that he could see over much of the crowd, even if he wasn’t standing apart from everyone on the small step near the entrance. He was dressed more formally than much of the grungy crowd, in obviously expensive black jeans, a plain white t-shirt, and a grey linen button up with the sleeves rolled past his forearms.

His demeanor was just as dour as his outfit. Sharp eyes roved the room, his arms crossed and his mouth pressed into a straight line. Even with his obviously foul mood, he was strikingly handsome. Something about him exuded power and authority. As his eyes passed over the crowd, it seemed like he was watching everyone closely, looking for something or someone. He turned towards the back of the room, suddenly locking eyes with Maggie. He held her gaze for a few heart-stopping seconds, neither of them able to look away. Just then, the lights dimmed again and the crowd went wild, while the lead singer of the main attraction swaggered on to the stage.

Becca appeared beside Maggie, pulling her towards the stage. “Mr. Thornton said he’d watch the bar for me for a bit since this is my favorite band. I’ll introduce y’all after, he’s been looking forward to meeting you,” Becca had told Maggie earlier that her boss, the owner of The Mill, was looking for a photographer to trial getting some pictures of the venue and bands. But Maggie wasn’t thinking about that, she was scanning the crowd again for Mr. tall, dark, and handsome. Unfortunately, she had lost sight of him in the rush towards the stage.

_John_

For John, getting dressed was something that required very little thought. Since most of his clothing was in various shades of black and gray, everything matched. He had grabbed a shirt and pants on autopilot, not even thinking as he got dressed for the night. Summer is a busy time in the entertainment industry, and every night meant a different group of bands and artists gracing the stages of The Mill. Tonight was one of Becca’s favorite bands- he made a mental note to make sure she was able to get away from the bar for a while so she could see part of their set. He’d made a special effort to book this band since Becca had assured him they would bring in a good crowd. She had a sense about those things, always with her fingers on the pulse of the ever-changing music scene of Atlanta. John himself was considered “out of touch”, but that was a forgivable offense. No one could complain when John ran one of the most popular clubs in the city.

Looking around the room that night, he could tell Becca was correct again. The sold-out crowd was teeming with energy, excited for the headliner and pumped from the surprisingly talented opener band. He usually stood aside, watching for signs of trouble. Trouble, while rare, could ruin a business like his. People liked to feel safe, and he couldn’t afford for his venue to have a reputation for disreputable characters. Nick did a good job weeding out the troublemakers at the door, but occasionally someone slipped through the cracks. So, John watched the crowd like a hawk, always alert to potential disruptions.

It was while he was occupied with this duty that he suddenly wished he had put more thought into his wardrobe choices. Of course, he saw many pretty- even beautiful- women in his line of work, but there was something about this one that felt different. The way she caught his eyes, she seemed to see right through him. He felt strangely dull and drab, when usually his minimalism made him feel powerful. Something about her stare made him feel warm, and when the house lights went down and he lost her in the crowd, he felt the familiar coldness come back. He shook his head to try and clear the fog, then walked to the bar that he knew Becca would have already abandoned in her excitement.

_Maggie_

In just 20 minutes Maggie was sweating so much she felt faint in the press of the crowd, jeans be damned, so she motioned to Becca that she was going to get some air and a drink. The back of the room was thankfully far less crowded since most people were packed towards the front, trying to get as close to the stage as possible. There were no less than 3 crowd surfers at any moment, and Maggie had already been kicked in the head twice. As she burst from the crowd she took a few gasping breaths of blissfully comparatively cool air. Of course anything would feel cool after the raging, sweat-filled inferno of the crowd. She wandered towards the bar, noticing that there was some kind of argument going on between two men nearby. She couldn’t hear what they were saying over the band, but it seemed pretty heated. Shrugging it off, she turned her attention to the bartender.

Maggie barely had time to register that the bartender was, in fact, the same handsome stranger- Mr. Thornton, she assumed- before he was jumping over the bar and onto one of the men arguing. In the dim and flashing lights of the room, it was hard to keep track of who was hitting and who was winning. She watched, fascinated as the struggle continued, the men falling to the ground, until finally, Mr. Thornton stood up, giving the other man a kick in the ribs. Something snapped inside Maggie, and she rushed forward and grabbed Thornton by the arm.

“Stop!” She cried, yanking on his arm. He spun to face her, rage in his ice blue eyes and a gun in his hand.

Before she could even begin to panic at the sight of a gun in a crowded building, Mr. Thornton quickly released the magazine and unloaded the gun. He briefly glanced at Maggie, furrowing his brow for a moment, before looking behind her and barking “Put this in safe with the others.” Maggie turned, just then noticing Becca had walked up behind her in the middle of the spectacle. She must have come to check on Maggie and the bar.

Becca took the gun from Mr. Thornton and gave Maggie a sheepish half-smile. “You might better go, for now, he’ll be in a pissy mood the rest of night,” she said, walking around the bar towards a door that said “staff only”. Maggie only nodded, still stunned at what was happening, as Mr. Thornton hauled the man off the ground by his shirt. He was a good 6 inches shorter than Mr. Thornton and smaller overall. Mr. Thornton was able to easily lift and drag the half-beaten man out of the room and down the stone stairs, out of sight. Maggie took a shaky breath, looking around for another exit; she definitely didn’t want to run into this beast of a man on her way out. She found a back set of stairs and rushed outside, running all the way to her car. She was in such a hurry that she didn’t notice the sharp blue eyes watching her from the main doorway, making sure that no one bothered her during the quick trip to her car, or that no one approached as she sat in her car, trying to calm her racing heart before driving home.

_John_

Two men were arguing by the bar, fighting about a girl, of course. One of the men was someone John recognized, a guy with which he’d had problems with in the past, who was on his final warning before being banned from the club. John was watching them closely, so when their fight escalated and he saw the familiar movements of someone reaching for a weapon, he knew he had to act fast.

Up, over the bar, catch him off guard, say a silent prayer that the imbecile has the safety on, or better yet, didn’t bring a loaded gun into a crowded club. He knew from experience that the last part was too much to ask for. He felt the anger working its way through his chest, with only a single thought as he struggled with the much smaller man- _get the gun, get the gun_. Luck was on his side, the man was more drunk than normal, and he was able to get him on the ground without too much of a struggle. As he stood up, looming over the rabble-rouser, the man on the ground gave him a half smirk. Something about the smug look on the man’s face enraged John even more, so he gave him a swift kick in the ribs for good measure.

As his foot made contact with the man’s side, John felt a hand grab his arm and an angry voice in his ear, crying “Stop!” He angrily turned and saw the last person he expected, the girl he’d noticed earlier. He also saw Becca standing behind her, and it clicked. They knew each other. Becca had said she was bringing a friend, a potential photographer. _Shit_. His mind was working it all out as he automatically disarmed the gun without even thinking. The tightness in his chest hadn’t loosened, and he struggled to take a deep breath as he passed the gun to Becca, sounding angrier than he intended. Thankfully Becca was used to his temper and his tone, so she took it with no questions asked while he turned back to the man on the ground.

He was about as heavy as a sack of potatoes, and half as limp. John drug him by the shirt, through the door, and down the main stairs, with very little resistance. Before he tossed him on the ground outside, he stopped in front of Nick at the door.

“Take note of this guy’s face, Nick. The ass-hat brought a gun and was stupid enough to try and wave it around. Don’t ever let him in here again. If you see him even on the property, call the police.” With that John dropped him, the man having recovered enough to land somewhat on his feet.

Nick eyed the guy up and down. “You got it, boss. Everything alright upstairs, then?” He asked as they watched the trouble maker scurry down the street.

Turning to glance back up the stairs, John sighed. “I suppose. The incident passed largely unnoticed, save for your sister and what I assume to be her friend.” He had hoped to catch her on her way down the stairs, and potentially try to explain what happened.

“Mhm, I met her before the show, she sure is a looker, yeah?” Nick chuckled to see his boss out of sorts, since it was such a rare occurrence. John shook his head as if to clear it, before noticing movement on the emergency stairs to his left. Apparently, Nick noticed, as well. “I guess she found another way out,” he said, gesturing. “Shouldn’t you be getting back to it, boss?”

John nodded. “I should,” he sighed, but didn’t move to head back up the stairs. He suddenly felt dizzy, and leaned against the doorway for a moment, watching as the girl sprinted back to her car. He stayed there, watching as her car remained dark and immovable for some time, until finally she cranked it up and drove slowly away. He shook his head once more, nodded wordlessly to Nick, and headed back upstairs into the usual chaos.


	2. Chapter 2

_“And I know that you're a sucker for anything acoustic._  
_But when I say let's keep in touch,_  
_I hope you know I mean I wish that you'd grow up._  
_This is the first song for your mixtape,_  
_It's short just like your temper  
_ _But somewhat golden like the afternoons we used to spend before you got too cool.”_

-Brand New

_Maggie_

When Maggie opened the door to her parent’s house the next afternoon, she heard piano music coming from the back room. That wasn’t a strange occurrence, since she had grown up listening to her father play piano. The odd thing was, it was someone decidedly not her father playing- this person was obviously inexperienced, playing with childlike carefulness. She remembered that her father had intended to pick up a few students to supplement their income, so she snuck back to get a peek at the cute little kid learning piano for the first time. What she found when she turned the corner was not what she expected at all.

Mr. Thornton sat next to her father at the piano bench, his brow furrowed in concentration as he tapped away at the piano keys. He was so focused that he didn’t notice Maggie in the doorway. Mr. Hale, however, did. 

“Maggie! You’re back from the store. Perfect, come meet my first pupil! This is John Thornton. John, this is my daughter, Maggie.” At Mr. Hale’s exclamation, Mr. Thornton startled and looked up from the piano. Maggie stood frozen in the doorway as Mr. Thornton and her father stood up from the piano and crossed the room to greet her. She reluctantly took the hand that Thornton held out to her, noticing how strong and warm his handshake was, as he said with a half-smile “it’s nice to finally be introduced.” Dropping her hand, he turned to Mr. Hale, “I’m afraid your daughter and I are already somewhat acquainted, under less than pleasant circumstances.”

That broke the spell. “Less than pleasant? I saw you brawling in your own bar and kick a man while he was already down! Not to mention the..”

“Gun?” He interrupted. “A man brought a gun into the concert, then proceeded to drink too much and get into an altercation with another very drunk person. I was angry, but I do what I must to protect The Mill.” His voice held some strange emotion, one she was too angry to bother reading.

The scene was replaying itself in Maggie’s mind, and she shuddered. “That sounds more like a job for the police than a businessman. I don’t believe you should be taking the law into your own hands,” she snapped.

John gave a humorless laugh. “If I had waited an hour or more for the police to arrive, people could have died, and the ensuing chaos would leave many more injured. Have you ever been trapped in a room full of panicking people? As a businessman it’s my job to make sure that doesn’t happen,” he said, closing his eyes briefly as if reliving some long past memory. Sighing, he turned towards Mr. Hale. “My mother will bring Faith by to trial a lesson later this week, though I’m afraid she’s not quite enthusiastic about the idea.”

“Oh yes, yes, um, that would be just fine,” Mr. Hale stuttered. “I think she’s just a few years younger than Maggie, and I’m sure she’d love to get to know her as well, isn’t that right Maggie?” He said, looking over to her. She just raised her eyebrows, unwilling to make any more contributions to this awkward conversation. Mr. Hale coughed, “well then, John, we can continue next week with Beethoven.”

With one last glance toward Maggie, John nodded. “That sounds good. I’ll see you next week, Mr. Hale. Thank you,” he said as he walked out of the room, leaving Maggie and her father looking angry and uncomfortable, respectively. 

 

_John_

He had been thinking about the girl since that night. It was frustrating, to not be in control of his own mind. As an adult, John made it a point in life to be in control as much as possible. The natural consequence of spending one’s childhood tossed about like a leaf in the wind, at the whimsy of the world, with no say in your own future. So to be unable to focus on his work, arguably the most important part of his life, made John extremely agitated. Instead of returning the call of an important booking agent, he found himself thinking about the look in the girl’s eyes. They weren’t full of fear, as you’d expect. There was something else; anger, courage, maybe defiance. Whatever it was, it took a lot of moxie to intervene in a bar fight.

As the time ticked by, his mind strayed to the curve of her lips, the brief glance he’d seen of her hips in tight black skinny jeans… “Jesus!” He grumbled as he pushed the chair away from the desk, glancing at his watch. It was already 1:30, and he’d wasted away half the day with this nonsense. It was time to go anyway, or else he’d be late for his appointment.

What better than classical piano to cool his thoughts? He offered a silent thanks to his investor, Mr. Bell, who had arranged a meeting with an instructor who had recently moved to town. John had been wanting to resume piano lessons ever since he was a teenager, but it seemed something always came up to prevent it. So, when Mr. Bell mentioned that his old college buddy had relocated and was looking for a few pupils to occupy his time and supplement his income, John took it as a sign. Not that he believed in signs, but it was as good an excuse as any.

Mrs. Thornton, of course, didn’t see the appeal or the reason. John’s mother was practical to a fault, and she didn’t see the point of her successful, handsome son wasting valuable time on “the arts” when he could be working or, better yet, finding a wife. Maybe if the piano instructor was an equally successful and beautiful young lady, she would have a different opinion. As it stood, she didn’t approve of the reportedly old and washed up yankee composer with a sickly wife and an undoubtedly snobby daughter. They were all like that in her mind, the northerners.

John was able to put a stop to that argument by suggesting that Faith also give piano lessons a try. He didn’t think they would stick, but his mother was always willing to try something to make Faith more appealing and well rounded. If they could convince her to have some interest beyond frat boys and fashion magazines, they’d claim a success. John had grown up with almost nothing, so he wanted to give his baby sister everything. Now he and his mother were reaping the unfortunate rewards of that mistake.

So, to Mr. Hale’s he would go. The short drive he spent warring with his mind, a fight between thoughts of the mystery girl and his own attempts at focusing on the music he had playing for inspiration. He parked in front of the small house in the slightly rundown neighborhood that almost reminded him of the place he lived as a child. Before things changed for the better, then changed for the worse. With that impression, he was finally able to shake loose the thoughts of those haunting defiant eyes, as he walked up to knock on the faded door.

The door was opened by a small man, with a kind face that was somehow familiar. “Welcome! Come in, come in, you must be John! I’m Richard, and this is my wife, Maria,” he exclaimed, shaking John’s hand then gesturing to a pale woman sitting in a recliner in the front room. She gave a small wave and a weak smile, before returning her attention to the scarf she was knitting. Mr. Hale led John to the back of the house, chatting as they went. 

“Please forgive the mess, Maria hasn’t quite had the strength to fully unpack yet. Thankfully our daughter has recently come down to help us out, poor girl, though she has her own reasons for being here,” he was saying, motioning to some boxes in the corner. John noticed that the house was sparsely furnished, with drab taupe walls and almost no personal touches as of yet. He silently hoped this daughter if theirs would really be able to spruce the place up. It didn’t seem like the kind of place that would be good for a sickly person, as he understood Mrs. Hale to be.

It was a relief for John to have his mind occupied once more by the simplicity of music and learning. He was surprised at how quickly his fingers remembered the movements on the keys, how easy it was for him to pick back up almost where he left off years ago. The hour lesson time passed quickly, and as they neared the end he had already decided he quite liked Mr. Hale. It was with this thought as he ran through his scales one last time, that someone walked through the doorway. 

John was startled out of his concentration by Mr. Hales voice. “Maggie!” He heard the smile in the older man's voice as he turned to greet his daughter. That’s all he heard; as soon as he looked up from the piano, a roaring started in his ears and he felt as if the whole world tilted just slightly. He numbly stood up as Mr. Hale introduced him to his daughter, pinpricks of ice racing up his fingertips and he reached out his hand to her. The warmth of her hand in his suddenly grounded him, and he managed to finally choke out a few words and an awkward smile.

_Snap out of it, Thornton, you’re better than this,_ he thought to himself. For someone that didn’t believe in signs, the universe sure was throwing a lot at him at the moment. It was unfortunate that he and the musician’s daughter seemed doomed to misunderstand each other. Their brief, volatile conversation left him reeling, fighting off demons that he had spent his whole life trying to forget. He had to get out of there, out of the house that seemed a shadow of former homes, away from the girl determined to make him remember, back to the work he used to make himself forget. 

Somehow he managed politeness to Mr. Hale, hoping that the awkwardness of the situation was mainly in his own mind, before striding quickly out the room and through the house, nodding to Mrs. Hale as he walked out the door. Once outside, he took a deep breath of stale, humid air and tried to shake the feeling that his life was about to spiral out of his control once more.

_Maggie_

When they heard the front door close, Mr. Hale turned to his daughter. “Now Magpie, I’d really appreciate it if you made an effort to be kind to John’s sister, Faith. From what I gather she hasn’t had the easiest life, and it would be good for you to make some friends here if you plan on staying.” 

“I already have friends here, dad,” she argued, “Becca and her brother, Nick. Besides, if Faith is anything like her brother, I don’t think we’ll get along at all any way. But I’ll at least try to be here when she comes for her lesson, if only to make you happy.” But she didn’t have to be happy about it herself. 

Mr. Hale decided to not press his luck any further at the moment, so he kept silent on the subject. For now. He readily took Maggie’s suggestion of a snack, and she was glad that the conversation had been dropped so easily. She went to unload the groceries she had picked up, since her mother was feeling weak this morning and wasn’t up to going out. Of course Maggie didn’t mind running errands for her parents and helping them out; that was one of the reasons she had decided to come, after all.

But she had intended to do some errands of her own, like finding her own place, and looking for a job since it seemed Becca’s first lead wouldn’t work out. Instead she had overslept, woken up to find almost no food in the house, and her mother already having a mid-morning nap in her recliner. So, she snagged the grocery list off the side table, tucked the blanket around her mom’s legs, and headed out to the store. 

The day was already shaping up to be a scorcher, even though it wasn’t even lunch time. Maggie had learned from her mistake last night and put on shorts that morning. While that was a good choice, her legs were already damp moments after stepping out of the door. Whether that was from sweat or from the moisture of the air itself, she wasn't sure. She was sure, however, that this southern summer air was not going to be kind to her curly hair. She could already feel the dampness building along her hairline, encouraging the curls that she had painstakingly straightened that morning.

Thankfully she had driven her own car down. It was a long, lonely drive down the east coast, one that had given her way too much time to think about her life choices and the mess she left behind in Boston. But her parents had already warned her that she would definitely need a car in this new city, so she had her cousin Eden drive her to their home in the country, where her car was stored while she lived in the city with Eden and her fiancé. She tried not to think about the new family living in her childhood home, which her parents had rented out when they moved south.

Maggie was thankful for the groceries now, as it gave her a perfect excuse to leave her father in his music room and head to the kitchen, where she could be alone with her thoughts as she whipped up a snack. Tomorrow, she was meeting Becca and Nick for lunch. She was hopeful that they would be able to help her with setting up her new life here. It was even more important for her to find her own place, now, since she couldn’t imagine being subject to John Thornton’s presence one or more times a week, not to mention the promised presence of his sister and mother. 

No, she needed a job, another place to crash, and the ability to avoid the tall, handsome, irritating stranger that had decided to invade her thoughts. _It’s a big city,_ she thought, _how hard can it be to avoid one person?_ With that, she brushed off the encounter and decided to go on with her day as if nothing had happened. Of course, this was easier said than done. But she was a grown woman, she could handle it.


	3. Chapter 3

_“Now you're so much older, so mature and insecure_  
_You've grown out of yourself and into something else_  
_Oh you crazy rebel tell me is this what you want to be  
_ _Would it kill you to be shameless?”_

-Say Anything

_John_

The Mill was quiet, a rare occurrence on a Friday night. An unfortunate occurrence, as well. John rubbed his temples, elbows leaning against his desk. It was summer, at least one stage at The Mill should be booked every night. He hoped tonight was a one-off situation; at least he had a good lineup for tomorrow and through the next few weeks. Competition was fierce among the venues, bands were skipping Atlanta on their tours, ticket prices were going up while people’s budgets were going down. He didn’t like the trends he was seeing. 

After leaving the Hale’s, he’d thrown himself into his work for the rest of the evening. Now the sun was setting, and he’d made little progress trying to book bands for the fall. At least had the forethought to pick up some Chick-Fil-A on the way home. He smiled, remembering something his father used to say: “When you’ve had a shitty day, you need some fucking Chick-Fil-A.” That was the kind of man he was, the kind that let his children stay at The Mill to listen to questionable bands and who wasn’t averse to cursing in front of them. Looking back, John wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not.

With a weary sigh, he pushed away from his desk and walked from his office into the hall. It was still muggy outside, making him glad once again that he’d driven the short distance from his house to The Mill. He didn’t technically have to be at The Mill at all, since no one else was there and he had an office at home. But something about being on site motivated him, away from the distractions at home of his mother and sister. 

Mrs. Thornton had left him a plate in the kitchen when he got home, figuring he would be at work late and be hungry when he was finally finished. As with most things, she was right. He scarfed down the home cooked meal in just a few minutes, then grabbed a beer from the fridge before heading up the stairs to his music room. Music was what he needed after the odd and distressing day he’d had. Music made everything better.

He flipped through his vinyl collection, searching for just the right record to help him relax and clear his mind for a little while. He finally decided on one, a classic, one of his father’s favorites, and he popped it on the player and slid his headphones on.

When John was a little boy, he’d sit on the floor in the music room with his father, close his eyes, and listen to his dad sing along with the lyrics. Now, some 20 years later, he still preferred to sit on the floor next to the big chair that still smelled of his father’s pipe tobacco. Of course, he couldn’t do that when he had colleagues around, and was usually embarrassed to do it when his family was with him. But when he was alone, and the rest of the house was tucked into their own corners for the night, he still slid to the floor, closed his eyes, and leaned his head back, breathing in the familiar scent of his father. 

That’s where his mother often found him in the morning, long after the record had played itself out. This morning was no different; she knew it had been a rough day whenever it happened. So, she’d creep back out, not wanting to disturb or embarrass her strong young man. And today, like most mornings, he stayed asleep, memories of his father singing mingling with images of a girl with fierce eyes and a sharp tongue.

_Maggie_

This Sunday brunch wasn’t the kind that Maggie was used to back home. Of course, she’d heard of chicken and waffles, but always assumed it was a strange novelty and not something people actually ate. And she was slightly suspicious of the contents of the gravy that was smothering her biscuit. 

“We thought we’d ease you in real slow” Nick was saying, “start out with something fairly normal before shockin’ your system with the truly weird stuff.” If this was normal to them, she was afraid to find out what they considered weird.

Becca was showering her gravy with pepper. “I was jonesing for some Waffle House, but Nick said that might be too much for you yet,” she smiled and took an enormous bite of her gravy slathered biscuit, waving her fork at Maggie as she continued, “besides, Waffle House would ruin you for any other breakfast food. I guess we should save the best for last.”

So far Maggie had managed to avoid anything inherently “southern”, as far as food went, at least. In her short time in Georgia, she’d mainly eaten at her parents house, had some take out Mexican, and tried this one hipster looking wrap cafe. She had a sudden longing for a real New England breakfast as she looked at the pile of slop on her plate.

Nick and Becca were grinning at each other as Maggie stared anxiously at the food in front of her. “Well, go on then, try it,” Nick nudged her. She cautiously cut off a bit of biscuit that wasn’t completely saturated with gravy and put it in her mouth.

_Hmm,_ she thought, as she munched on the creamy yet peppery biscuit. “Hmmmmm,” she mumbled, swallowing. “That wasn’t what I expected. Really, not bad at all.” With that, she attacked her plate with renewed vigor, and the siblings knew they had won that battle against the north.

“I still can’t believe that your dad is teaching Thornton piano,” Nick said later, as they sat in a park, sipping iced coffee, watching a group of kids play ultimate frisbee. “What a crazy coincidence.”

Becca coughed, and Nick shot her a look. “What?” She cried. “You know I don’t believe in coincidences. It’s fate, the universe is telling you something.”

Rolling her eyes, Maggie took a long sip of her coffee. “Yeah? Telling me what, not to hang around with tall handsome men who can handle a gun like they were born with one in their hand?”

“Oh, so you do think he’s handsome. I knew it!” Becca grinned, ignoring the rest of her comment. 

Nick wouldn’t let that slide past, though. “Then you shouldn’t hang around me, I suppose, if you have a problem with guns.” 

Surprised, Maggie glanced over at him. “You know how to shoot a gun?” She asked

“Not just that,” he patted his side, “never leave home without it. Unless I’m drinking of course. That’s why I prefer to drink at home.”

Becca stood up suddenly and whirled around to face them. “Enough of this. I don’t like talking about such controversial things on such a gorgeous Sunday morning.” She was right, it was shaping up to be a beautiful day. It had stormed overnight, clearing the pollen from the air and helping relieve the humidity. The sky was shining blue with picture perfect fluffy white clouds. Becca started walking down the path, so Maggie and Nick shrugged and followed after her. 

As they crested a hill in the park, Becca stopped and told Maggie to look behind her. Maggie turned, the view taking her breath away. The skyline was glittering in the sunlight, nestled in a forest of unbelievably green trees. “This is what it’s all about, Maggie,” Becca said, a small smile on her face. “The calm in the storm, the city in a forest. It’s our home. Isn’t it beautiful?” 

Maggie certainly couldn’t argue with that. Maybe she could carve out a life for herself here, after all. 

_John_

Mr. Hale looked right at home among the musicians, producers, and venue owners that had gathered together for a drink at the Thornton’s home. John was pleased with his spur of the moment decision to invite him, thinking it could help generate more students for the retiree. He hadn’t expected Hale to have such an informed and reasonable view of the music industry as a whole, and to provide such an interesting perspective on their current problems.

“Did I tell you, Thornton, that I’ve decided to switch over to TicketMaster for managing our sales?” Watson, the owner of The Temple, was saying as they sat in the music room, sipping on scotch and chatting.

Most of the men in the room knew John’s opinion on this matter. “You know I prefer to handle my own ticket sales in house, Watson,” he said, for Mr. Hales benefit.

Slickson snorted. “Just think of all the time you could save, Thornton. And in the long run, won’t it be better for profits? Time is money, after all. Maybe you could spend more of it booking shows for The Mill, instead.” Slickson was a prominent producer and promoter, so he knew well the problems the owners had been facing.

“What happens when the ticket sites keep raising fees? When bands can’t sell tickets because their fans can’t afford them? When fans refuse to buy tickets because of the outrageous fees? As if it isn’t hard enough to attract artists to the city already.” John shook his head, “No, it may be more work for me now, but I’ll keep my ticket prices firmly within my own control. There would be no profits at all if no one can afford to go to a show.”

Mr. Hale cleared his throat, “Surely it’s better for everyone if ticket prices and fees are lower, since it will allow better access to the enjoyment of music, for those who would miss out otherwise?” 

Some of the men snickered at what they perceived as naivety, but John was secretly pleased; it was a refreshing change from the cynical outlooks of the other men in the room. “While true, Mr. Hale,” he said, “I cannot choose my business practices based on what is best for the lower classes, not when I have my own family and staff to worry about.” He shrugged, “As you can see, we are all businessmen first and music lovers second, and very few of us are altruists. The money comes before the music, unfortunately.”

Hamper raised his glass, “I’ll drink to that!” he said as he downed the last dram of his scotch. “Now let me see your record collection, Thornton, we’ve got this British band coming to The Loft and I wanted to give them a listen.” No one was surprised when John was able to find the record easily, considering his extensive and well-organized collection. The rest of the group finished their drinks and settled in to listen to a few tracks before taking their leave.

_Maggie_

“Maggie! Come look!” her mother called from the front room. She had been watching out the window, anxious for the arrival of Mrs. Thornton and her daughter, Faith. Mr. had told Maggie and her mother that the Thornton women would be coming by today for Faith’s “trial lesson”. Maggie could only guess what that even meant. Either you want to learn piano, or you don’t. She had a feeling the poor girl didn’t, and was just coming to please her overbearing brother. But she had promised her father that she would put in an effort, so she would smile and make nice.

As Maggie rushed towards the window to see what her mom was talking about, she nearly tripped on the rug in the hall. Finally, she made it to the front room and peeked out the window, just in time to see the spectacle in front of her parent’s home. An older woman, whom she could only assume was Mrs. Thornton, was standing on the curb, tugging on a young blonde lady, pulling her from the seat of the ridiculously stylish car. The girl was wearing shorts so short they could hardly be described as shorts at all, and a cropped top that revealed a tanned, flat stomach. As Mrs. Thornton yanked her out of the car, the younger woman was dangerously close to giving the Hales and their neighbors an X-rated show.  
Mrs. Hale looked scandalized. “Goodness, what an interesting…” she struggled to find the word to politely describe her lack of dress.

Giggling, Maggie ducked from the window. “I hope she doesn’t freeze in here with how low you’ve been keeping the air conditioner!” She laughed while her father went to answer the doorbell. 

After an awkward introduction, Maggie, her mom, and Mrs. Thornton made small talk while Faith went into the music room with Mr. Hale. It was a short 30-minute lesson, after which Faith waltzed into the front room and flopped onto the far side of the couch. “Okay, mama, I gave it a try. I told you I wasn’t interested,” She said with a sigh. “I’d rather work on my tan, not to mention my butt. Plus, sunlight and exercise are better than being cooped up in a stuffy music room like John always is.” She looked around, the glanced at Maggie. “I guess you aren’t into fitness, are you? I didn’t even see any free weights laying around, and you’re definitely not into tanning.” This was said with a long look at Maggie’s pale skin.

Maggie gave a small laugh. “No, it’s a bit harder to maintain a healthy glow in Boston than it is down here, I imagine. I prefer to hike and explore outside, rather than work out in a gym, to be honest.” Not that she had much time for either activity, lately.

At the mention of Maggie’s previous residence, Faith perked up. “Boston, hm? I’ve always wanted to go there.”

“Well, it’s not too bad of a plane ride, and not so expensive either. I’ve made the trip several times when mom and dad were moving down here.” Maggie personally preferred to travel by plane and enjoyed the short trip from Boston to Atlanta.

Faith sighed. “Mama doesn’t want to go and doesn’t understand why I want to leave here to spend time with a bunch of stuck up yank- oh! Pardon me, of course y’all are an exception.” This last part was added after a sharp look from Mrs. Thornton.

_Stuck up yankees, huh? Well, we’ll show her_ , Maggie thought. “Either way, I’m sure there are plenty of things to do around here that are just as fun.”

“Oh yes,” Faith smiled a little. “There are the concerts, of course, though they get boring after a while. Football games are always a hoot, unless we lose. We also have Six Flags! Though mama doesn’t like for us to go, she doesn’t think it’s safe. I actually haven’t been in years,” she said with a pout.  
Mrs. Thornton stood up. “Alright, Faith, enough with your drama. Mrs. Hale,” she said, turning her attention. “I appreciate your hospitality. We would be happy to return the kindness soon. And Mr. Hale, I’m afraid there is no hope for our Faith. While I’m sure John enjoys his lessons very much, I don’t believe Faith can be persuaded to continue in the same manner. Pity, really, since the arts are much more suited for a young lady than an important businessman. Too bad their dispositions aren’t opposite in that regard. But again, we do appreciate your effort.” With that, she bade them goodbye, Faith following behind as they walked out to their car.


	4. Chapter 4

_“My friends are all dying_   
_I can't catch my breath_   
_I dress up in black now to match the events_   
_We've all got thorns - Yeah, they prick and they poke_   
_I imagine your veins burst a red blooming rose_   
_I wish I could get back everyone that I love_   
_I'm not your Songbird and you're not my Dove”_

-Mammoth Indigo

_Maggie_

Maggie had largely been avoiding the issue of her mother's health. For sure, it was partially the reason she had fled Boston, but it was really just an easy excuse, a way to circumvent the questions of her friends and family members. In truth, she hadn’t checked her messages or emails since she left and had only used her phone to call Becca to make plans. She supposed she should at least shoot her cousin Eden an email, if only to let her know she was alive and not dead in a ditch somewhere. But the thought of contacting anyone back home made her stomach twist, as did the 99+ unread messages icon and numerous missed calls she saw every time she opened her phone. She tried to look at her phone as little as possible these days.

Instead, she had filled her time with reading- she had an extensive reading list that had been stacking up, but now she was burning through it like wildfire. She’d also been listening to music, catching up on new releases and planning concerts she wanted to see with Becca. Unfortunately for her, many of the bands she preferred would be playing at The Mill, though there were several venues that catered to the same crowd. At least one show she planned to attend was at another concert hall, with a few more that she was on the fence about. Concert season was in full swing; she could spend almost every night at one place or another, if she wanted.

She’d picked up a few light photography gigs as well, nothing major or long term, but it gave her more wiggle room in her budget. Since she still hadn’t found a place of her own, she was saving a fair amount living with her parents. Between that and her savings, she wasn’t in too much of a rush to find a permanent job, especially since she wasn’t sure if Atlanta would be her permanent home, either.

Her parents were, of course, enjoying her presence. Her mom seemed weaker by the day and seemed to miss her northern home. Maggie wondered privately whether the move really was for her mother’s benefit, or if it was for her father’s, after all. Him being southern born and raised, she always had the feeling that he never quite fit in with the northern ways, though he had lived there for the majority of his life at this point. When Mr. Bell started talking up Atlanta in the recent years, it didn’t seem to take much for her father to latch on to the opportunity to move there.

And he was flourishing. Mr. Thornton had continued his lessons, though his sister decided against giving it another try, much to Mr. Hale’s relief. He and Thornton seemed to really enjoy their lessons, and on the rare occasion that Maggie was around during their sessions, she could tell a marked improvement in the younger man’s playing. She supposed it must be gratifying to her father to have such a willing and eager student, when most of his other pupils were children who weren’t always so enthusiastic.

One sunny Sunday, Maggie came home from reading in the park, which she had taken up the habit of doing ever since Becca and Nick had shown her how gorgeous it was. As she came through the door, she was surprised to find the whole front of the house in disarray- large white cloths, blue tape, and ladders everywhere. She realized her father must have gotten tired of the drab wall color at last.

As she rounded the corner to the kitchen, she bumped smack into Thornton precariously carrying a full bucket of paint. She’d been intending to chastise her father about not asking for her help but was left gaping at the unexpected visitor in front of her. She’d never seen John in such casual and, well, ratty clothes. His ripped jeans were spattered in paint from projects past, and his worn white t-shirt was tight across the chest, obviously a relic from a time before he’d grown into his adult body. And boy did he fill out that t-shirt now, with his biceps flexing with his efforts to try and prevent the paint bucket from spilling. He wasn’t entirely successful; a small splash of blue paint sloshed onto his shirt, and when he glanced down, some smudged onto his jaw as well.

When he glanced back up at her with a sheepish smile, Maggie had the sudden, ridiculous urge to run, as she noticed that the blue paint was almost the exact color of his sharp, icy eyes. As the moment stretched into awkwardness, she felt her hand reach up to wipe the paint off his face. _Don’t be ridiculous_ , she tried to stop herself, and was left with her hand hanging in the air between them. 

John cleared his throat and said, “Sorry about that, I should pay more attention to where I’m going.” His baritone voice sent shivers down her spine, making her feel light headed for a moment. 

_Good god, get a hold of yourself, woman_. She wasn’t sure what was wrong with her. Maybe it was the thoughts of home that we’re making her more sensitive. She shook her head, both to clear it and in response to Mr. Thornton’s statement. “Oh no, it’s my fault. Here, let me get you a paper towel.” Crisis averted, she headed into the kitchen while John went to the front room to set down the pain can. As she grabbed the roll of paper towels, she heard her father coming down the hall. 

“Oh hello, Magpie, sorry about the mess. I would have warned you, but it was a sort of spur of the moment idea John had.” Maggie could see the half smile on Mr. Thornton’s face when he heard her father’s pet name for her. John tried to hide his smile as he poured paint into a tray.

Straightening up, John grabbed two rollers, handing one to Mr. Hale. “Now that the prep work is done, we should have everything fixed right up in a jiffy.” With that he turned and started rolling the paint onto the wall in front of him. Maggie took that to mean they didn’t need help, so she shrugged and told her father she was going to hang out in her room to escape the paint fumes. In reality, she wanted to escape the sight of a man whose shoulder muscles rippled with the movement of painting, and whose jeans hugged his thickly muscled thighs in an almost indecent way. 

_No_ , she thought as she closed her bedroom door, _nothing good can come from a man like that_. She thought she’d been good about avoiding him so far, but obviously he’d wormed his way into her family and her temporary home. And she didn’t like that one bit, no matter how good his ass looked in those jeans. 

_John_

He hadn’t painted in years, but when Mr. Hale had mentioned how much his wife hated the awful beige of the front room, John had the bright idea to paint it. So, after a quick call to Mr. Bell, who owned the house, John and Mr. Hale set off to the hardware store to pick out paint and gather supplies.

Since it was Sunday, he had a little time off before The Mill needed him back for the concerts that night. He knew his mom was baffled that he wanted to spend his free time with the old pianist and his family, but it was refreshing to be in male company that wasn’t trying to subvert his business at every turn, where every phrase was a veiled attempt to one up each other, and every compliment was backhanded. To be with someone who had no pretense, wanted nothing from him but to enjoy music and learn, was like a fog had lifted in his mind.

Of course, his mind was also often occupied with a certain female acquaintance, though he knew she made it a point to be out when he was around. Just because she was absent in body, did not mean she was absent in his mind. At least he could be confident that he wasn’t hanging around the Hale’s with ulterior motives, since he rarely saw her at all. In truth, he was more likely to catch a glimpse of her picking up Becca at The Mill or out on the town, than he was while in her own house.

Therefore, he was caught off guard when he exited the kitchen and ran right into Maggie. She was obviously surprised, too, as they stood staring at each other. He could feel the damp splotch of paint seeping through his shirt onto his chest. He glanced down, managing to brush his face in the paint. _Not so scary now, covered in paint_ , he thought ruefully, glancing back up at Maggie. She was focused on his face, staring intently at the paint there. As she reached up as if to wipe it away, his entire body froze. She did, as well, and they stood there a beat until he couldn’t stand it anymore.

When she whirled away to get paper towels, he heaved a quiet sigh, legs feeling like jelly. He noticed his hands were slightly shaking, so he went to set down the paint. _Why do you let her get to you like this, Thornton?_ He chastised himself, readying the paint tray, as he heard Mr. Hale coming down the hall and calling out to Maggie. Or rather, “Magpie”, he smiled to himself at hearing the adorable nickname. It fit her, the birds being naturally curious and persistent. Magpies are definitely not meek and humble songbirds, nor was Maggie.

John didn’t like the way she affected him, was thoroughly disturbed by it, actually. So, he decided to try to ignore her presence as much as possible, and set about painting, though he could feel her eyes on him as he started rolling the paint on the wall. Even more so, he felt her absence when she left to escape the paint fumes. It was as if a cold wind had blown into the room, removing the warmth that Maggie had brought in. He tried to shake off the feeling, and focused on painting, the blotches on his shirt and face forgotten and left to dry. 

Later that day, after they’d finished the job, cleaned up, and set the front room to rights, John stood in his bathroom, scrubbing his face to get the paint off. He knew he had enough to worry about without adding a relationship in the mix- as if she would even want a relationship with him in the first place. Why did every interaction they had have to be so stilted and awkward? He felt like a teenager, when usually he was smooth and confident with women. But no woman had held his attention for long, and he’d never had a serious relationship. Very few girls were willing to take second place to his work, and none of them were interesting enough or intrigued him enough to take first place. He could feel the years creeping by, however, and so could his mother. She reminded him periodically that he wasn’t getting any younger, and that there were numerous girls in the city who would be interested in a dashing young businessman. 

He gave a small scoff as he moved to the closet. Dashing? No, he didn’t consider himself to be all that. Handsome enough, but too rough, too distracted. There were hordes of cultured young men with gentile graces, from the old money families and the prestigious universities. They had the looks and the manners to back them up, and he could never compete with them. So, he didn’t try. 

None of it mattered, anyway. Shrugging on a shirt and rolling up the sleeves, he decided to put the matter out of his mind. He had more important things to think about, more than enough problems to contemplate. And for the moment, he had a show to oversee, hoodlums to watch out for, and a crowd to keep safe. With one last glance in the mirror, he closed the matter in his mind, safely tucked away until his planned dinner at the Hale’s the next week.

_Maggie_

As much as she hated to admit it, the house felt so much brighter and comfortable with the new paint job. Her father had told her it was Mr. Thornton’s idea, and she had to hand it to him. It made the place feel much more like a home. Mr. Thornton had even helped her father hang some pictures on the walls. Maggie’s mom was also very excited and seemed more enthused than she had in weeks. This may have been in part due to the news she gave Maggie early the next week.

“Oh Maggie, isn’t this just the thing. I’ve just heard from my dear Dixie,” she said, tucked neatly into her recliner with a laptop on her knees. 

Mrs. Dixon, or ‘Dixie’ as everyone called her, was an old family friend. Though only a few years older than Mrs. Hale, she had babysat her and her sister when they were young, and they had been as close as sisters ever since. Maggie secretly thought her mother much preferred aunt Dixie over her own flesh and blood sister. “And what does the old firecracker have to say for herself?” Maggie asked her mom. Dixie had a righteous temper and was more than a little upset when the Hale’s had decamped to Georgia. 

Mrs. Hale looked up at Maggie with excitement. “She’s decided to come stay with us for a while, to make sure we are well and settled down here!” From his place in the dining room, Mr. Hale groaned at this proclamation. He obviously wasn’t thrilled about the prospect of Maria’s overbearing friend making herself at home indefinitely. But he would never dare extinguish the light in his wife’s eyes, which were so often filled with sadness and discomfort.

“When is aunt Dixon planning on coming down, then?” Maggie asked cautiously. She’d have to get the spare bedroom ready, as it was filled with boxes still, though it was really little more than a closet to begin with.

Clapping her hands, her mother exclaimed “that’s the best part! She will be here two days from now!” This time Maggie groaned, as she hoisted herself off the couch, figuring she had better get started on that bedroom. Two days was not a lot of time to prepare, both mentally and physically. At least aunt Dixon would be able to help her mother some, she was nothing if not industrious. And that was part of the problem, she always wanted to put her own two cents out there and fix what wasn’t broken. Maggie steeled herself for her arrival; it was sure to bring excitement of some kind, for better or worse.

_John_

“Alrighty then, you’re all set,” his barber said as he spun him around to face the mirror. John examined his reflection critically. The barber had gone a little shorter on the sides, left a bit more on the top than normal, but beyond that it was more or less the same hairstyle he’d worn for the last ten years. _If it ain't broke, don’t fix it_ , another one of his father’s catch phrases. He wondered idly why he had been so much in his thoughts as late, then remembered that it was coming up on the anniversary of his death. Twelve years had come and gone so fast, that it almost seemed like yesterday.

He tried to put his father and the ominous day of his death out of his mind as he paid the barber and walked back to his house. His mother was in the dining room when he walked inside. “My, don’t you look spiffy, what’s the occasion for the new style?” She asked, having some disturbing notion that she knew what had spurred on the sudden, albeit slight, change.

Putting one hand self-consciously to his head, John shrugged. “No reason, it was just time for a cut and I thought I’d try something new.” Mrs. Thornton, who knew her son better than she knew herself, narrowed her eyes. She was mentally calculating, before coming to the conclusion that it had only been 3 weeks since his last trim, when he usually went every 4 to 5 weeks. 

John could tell that she didn’t believe him but was grateful that she decided not to pursue the subject further. “You won’t be home for dinner, then?” She asked, though she knew the answer. He had told her of his dinner plans with the Hale’s the night that the plans had been made. 

Sighing, John turned to go up the stairs. “No, mom, you know that I have plans. Speaking of, I need to go get dressed before I’m late.” 

“What’s wrong with what you’re wearing? I don’t understand why you spend so much time with that old man and his family.” His mother raised her eyebrows, challenging him to contradict her.

“Mr. Hale has been kind to me, mother. He and his family have been very hospitable, and I intend to return that kindness with respect. Besides, I’m covered in hair.”

Mrs. Thornton scoffed. “Oh, yes, his family.” 

“Simmer down, you have nothing to be worried about as far as Maggie is concerned. She’s shown no signs that she even knows I exist. She’s from up north, I’m sure there are plenty of men that catch her interest, all very different from a country bumpkin like me.” He said this last part with a smile, to make sure his mother knew he was joking. She could be very sensitive when she thought her southern graces were under fire.

“Hmph. And you’re better off for it, I’m sure. You don’t need the attention of some yankee girl up on her high horse.” 

He laughed a little at that. “You might want to bring in your plants, it looks like it’s coming up a storm.” With that he went upstairs to finish getting ready for dinner.


	5. Chapter 5

_“It’s in the way you sell every word and phrase_   
_And leaving me to know how much the meaning weighs_   
_Saying that but meaning this_   
_Using hands for emphasis”_

-Emery

_John_

There were butterflies in his stomach as he rang the doorbell, which didn't make much sense. He’d come to the Hale’s plenty of times before, rang the doorbell in exactly the same way. There was no reason for this time to be any different. But he wasn’t fooling himself, he knew why he was nervous. He smoothed down the front of his pinstriped maroon button up as he waited for someone to answer the door. 

Dinner was delicious, simple but tasteful. Mr. Hale boasted about Maggie’s talents as a chef when John complimented the meal. It made him smile to imagine her in the kitchen, putting so much effort into something she knew he would eat. The conversation flowed easily, with only a few awkward moments. For all their differences, the Hale’s and the Thornton’s had a lot in common. A love of music, of course, but also other interests and hobbies. John and Maggie were able to joke about their childhoods, and she seemed fascinated as he talked about his adventures in the woods with his childhood friends.

After dinner, they adjourned to the music room, sipping on wine, chatting, and fiddling around on the piano. It was revealed that Maggie played the cello, but she cried off an impromptu performance with the excuse that she was tired from cooking all day. She curled up in a chair in the corner, absentmindedly plucking at the strings of her father’s mandolin while John and her father discussed ticket sales and profit margins. 

He noticed that the soft music she had been playing stopped and saw when he glanced over that Maggie had dozed off, her head precariously positioned on the side of the chair. Smiling, he said to Mr. Hale, “I think we’re boring Maggie over here with our business talk.” 

At the sound of her name, Maggie startled awake. “Oh no, I’m sure it’s riveting” she responded, “I’m just a little sleepy. It’s the heat, I think. Would you like a drink? I was thinking some lemonade sounded refreshing.” At John and Mr. Hale’s acceptance, she went to the kitchen to get the drinks. As she handed John his, their fingers brushed, sending sparks up his arm. He looked up quickly, to see if Maggie was similarly affected, but she swiftly turned away, walking back to her chair. He wondered if he’d imagined the flash of recognition in her eyes, before she withdrew.

_Maggie_

Becca and Nick had given up on “easing her in slowly” and decided to take her to one of the quintessential Atlanta places for lunch, according to them, at least. “Now,” Becca was saying as they walked from The Mill to the restaurant. “This isn’t one of those places that you want to eat at all the time, or even that often at all.”

“Or ever,” Nick cut in. He had been doing some work on the lights at The Mill, taking advantage of the lull between shows to do a few upgrades. “It’s not a place you really go for enjoyment, it’s more the experience that’s important. So, don’t focus on the food, or the weird feeling in your stomach, just soak in the atmosphere.”

None of that sounded very appetizing to Maggie. She had to be honest, they weren’t doing a very good job selling her on this place. Wary as they walked through the door, she examined the restaurant. It was a normal kind of retro style drive in hot dog place, with a greasy smell and an old school vibe. Overall, nothing too menacing. It was a little loud and a little crowded, but the line moved fast. Becca insisted on ordering for her, so Maggie just stepped back to appreciate “the experience.” 

As they sat down with their food, Nick tore into his chili doused hotdog with a groan. “I’m going to regret this. Damn you, Maggie, we only eat here with new friends and visitors.” He said, devouring his hotdog. 

Becca laughed, “Don’t blame anyone but yourself, Nicholas, you choose your own order and always get the same thing, no matter what the end result is.” She turned to Maggie. “So, the old bulldog is coming over for a real dinner this time, huh?”

Swallowing the surprisingly tasty bite of her hotdog, Maggie responded, “I guess. I actually need to get home soon to start cooking dinner.”

Nick had already polished off his own meal and was in the process of sneaking some of Becca’s onion rings. “I’d better get back to work, too, while there’s still work to be had.”

With a confused glance at Becca’s suddenly disheartened face, Maggie asked Nick, “What do you mean?”

“Well, business has been slow lately, and the owners are squabbling among themselves, making the whole situation worse.” He sighed. “There’s been talk of a boycott among the scene, though I don’t know how much good that would do.”

Maggie wasn’t sure she understood. “Wouldn’t the owners want to do whatever is needed in order to bring more shows to the city?” She’d heard murmurs among Becca and her friends, and from her father, of problems within the concert industry, but hadn’t quite connected that with how it could affect her friends and even her family.

Shaking his head, Nick said, “the problem is, we disagree with the owners on what even is the best thing to do. The whole music industry is changing, Maggie. There’s more money to be made than ever, but we have to be willing to change with it. Everything is going digital, even the music itself. But people can’t afford these outrageous ticket prices, and if they keep rising then there won’t be anyone left able to buy them. And guess what happens when no one buys tickets?”

“No one books any shows.” The thought was disheartening, both as a concert junkie and a photographer. She also thought of John, and her father, and the roadies, bartenders, and bouncers she had met so far. If the downturn in the concert business continued, it would have far reaching consequences.

The turn in the conversation put them all in a somber mood. It was with these things on her mind that she walked into her parents’ house. She wasn’t prepared for the chaos that greeted her there. Her mom was in a tizzy, fretting over the drabness of the curtains and the state of the carpet. And aunt Dixie, who had arrived late the night before, was adding to the pony show.

Dixie was standing on a stool, trying to pull down the curtain rod. “I don’t know what is so important about this man that we have to go through all this trouble. From what I understand, he’s been here loads of times. Beyond all that, he’s just a businessman. Who is he that we need to roll out the red carpet?” She said with a huff, finally wrenching the rod loose and almost tumbling to the floor in the process.

“Ah, well,” Mrs. Hale stammered, trying to find a valid excuse for her anxiety.

Maggie interrupted, “He’s father’s friend, and he’s been very kind to us since the move.” She was trying to be as gracious as possible, though she herself was asking the same kinds of questions as her aunt Dixie.

That apparently was an invitation to pursue the subject. “The move, indeed. Why your father felt the need to drag your mother down to this cesspool in the first place, I’ll never understand. For the weather! For the doctors! A trip to the seaside would have worked just as well, and as if we don’t have world class doctors at our finger tips, and easy car ride away in Boston. I’ll have you know, people back home have been saying your father has all but lost his mind!” Once Dixon got started on a tirade, it took an act of God to stop her.

It wasn’t quite an act of God, but as Maggie’s already foul mood heightened, it was a force to be reckoned with. “Dixie! I know you are like family to my mother, but I will not let you talk like that about my father, especially not in his own home. He is just doing what he thinks is best for his family, and we support him. If you are indeed a part of this family, you will not speak like that again.” With that, Maggie whirled around and made her way into the kitchen to get started on dinner.

 

_John_

Mrs. Hale and her friend Mrs. Dixon meandered into the room, having been in the front room chatting, after saying that Mrs. Hale preferred to enjoy the piano music from afar. John hadn’t quite gotten a good read on this Mrs. Dixon, and he hadn’t been expecting an extra person at dinner. Maggie explained earlier that ‘aunt Dixie’, as she called her, had come to stay for a while. John wondered privately how long ‘a while’ was, since he wasn’t overly fond of the woman so far, finding her strangely aloof and uppity. He tried not to be too quick to judgement, though.

“I was telling just John, Maria, how much we appreciated the new paint in the front room.” Mr. Hale said to his wife as she settled in on an ottoman stacked with pillows.

Mrs. Hale smiled, “Oh yes, it’s just the perfect shade of blue. It almost reminds me of the color of our living room back home. Such an improvement over the previous color, for sure.”

Cutting in, Mrs. Dixon said, “Yes, but not quite like your old living room. This one is a little a grayer, I think, and not nearly as bright.”

Something about the tone of this statement rubbed John the wrong way, but he tried to shrug it off, saying to Mrs. Hale, “Well, I am glad that at least something in our fair city could remind you of home.”

“You like living here very much, then, it seems,” Mrs. Hale said, looking as if she couldn’t imagine why. “Richard has been enjoying it as well, I know. You’re all very busy, very industrious, not at all like life in the countryside back home.”

_As if being industrious is something frowned upon_ , thought John. Out loud he responded, “True, I prefer to be occupied with something that I feel is worthwhile. I can’t imagine going back to the slow days of country life.”

Maggie perked up at that, looking irritated. “So, you think there is nothing worthwhile to be done in the country? I bet you feel the same way about all of the north, too. Meanwhile you southerners with your guns and your profits, thinking you’re so superior all the while.”

The outburst seemed to come out of nowhere, though John wondered if it was something that had been brewing for a while. Maybe they were getting to the bottom of their disagreements with each other. "I feel like it’s safe to say you don’t know much about the south. You want to lump us all together as a bunch of gun toting fanatics, but we are not all the same.” He wasn’t sure he liked the way this conversation was going, but he intended to explore these opinions she held, if only for his own benefit.

“Oh, aren’t you? I’ve seen your brutality in action at The Mill, you think you can take justice into your own hands!”

He tried to control his anger as it flared at her accusations. “No, that’s not true—"

“You have all the power and the money,” she cut him off, “You’re lucky that you haven’t had to endure the hardships that some have, but that doesn’t give you the right to be judge and executioner!” 

John felt like someone had dumped a bucket of ice water over his head and struggled to catch his breath for a moment. His thoughts scattered, while he considered standing up, walking out, and never returning to this house again. But he didn’t want to do that to Mr. Hale and thought he should at least try to resolve this situation peacefully. So, he took a deep breath and prepared himself to reveal a part of him that he preferred to keep hidden deep inside. 

_Maggie_

Between making dinner and helping Dixie finish up cleaning the house, Maggie was exhausted before the evening began. She wondered to herself why her father had made these plans, why he wasn’t content just having Thornton over as a pupil to play piano. Then she felt guilty, realizing that he had also left all of his friends and acquaintances in New England, just as she had. 

As she got cleaned up after cooking all afternoon, she made the mistake of looking at her laptop. Buried within multiple emails from Henry, she found a response to her earlier message to Eden.

> _Oh Maggie. If you would just answer our messages and calls, I’m sure we could sort this whole thing out. This must be some insane misunderstanding between you and Henry. He’s mega upset but won’t talk to me or even his brother about it._
> 
> _You’re missing some of the best shows of the season! I’m sure nothing in Atlanta can compare to the stellar lineup we have this year. Did you hear we got a puppy? We named him Sholto, it’s a name I heard while we were in Scotland last year. Isn’t it perfect? I’m attaching a picture, so you can see how well it fits him!_
> 
> _Please come home, Maggie. Mama was very upset that you missed my housewarming party. I’m sure she’d forgive you if you came back in time to help pick out the colors for the laundry room._
> 
> _XOXO_
> 
> _Eden_

A disagreement. That was putting it lightly. She supposed she understood why Henry didn’t want to tell them the trust of the matter and didn’t think it was her place to set the story straight. If he would just stop emailing her so she could use her computer without being accosted by new messages, that would be great. This day was shaping up to be fabulously awful; she didn’t have high hopes for the evening, either.

It was with this sour attitude that she went down for dinner after John arrived. He looked dashing, unfortunately, as always. It would be so much easier to hate him if he wasn’t so damn good looking. In fact, he looked even better than normal, if that were possible, the red in his shirt offsetting the cool blue of his eyes. And there was something about his hair, she couldn’t put her finger on it, but it looked different somehow. Whatever it was, it worked for him, as he was distractingly good looking all through dinner.

A warm and full belly lulled her into a sense of peacefulness as she curled into her corner chair, until she heard John saying her name. She was so exhausted but forced herself awake in order to play the good hostess, at least for her father’s sake. When she handed John his drink and their fingers brushed, she jumped back as if she’d been burned. _That’s not good_ , she thought, noticing that he had felt it, too. She was wide awake now.

After her mother and aunt Dixie came in, as she fought with John, she wasn’t sure why she was being so combative. Later that night she would try to explain it away as exhaustion, a rough day, but in truth her father’s friend brought out the worst in her. As she wielded her words like weapons, she didn’t have the time or presence of mind to explore the reasoning behind that. She just went for the kill, throwing all of her frustration that had been building up for weeks, at the easy target in front of her.

So, when John visibly struggled to reign in his temper, she was almost disappointed. It would have been so satisfying to make this a fight to the death, like a dam finally breaking, leaving whole neighborhoods devastated in its floodwaters. Sometimes it just felt good to let it all out, lay it on the table and see what you can make of it. Apparently, John felt the same way, since he took a deep breath and began his story in a low, controlled voice. The waters of this dam were dark and expansive, and Maggie wondered what would be left behind when they were all set free.


	6. Chapter 6

_"It takes a dedicated hand_   
_To put it through the wall_   
_You gotta wanna break the heart_   
_Of all those pretty porcelain dolls_   
_You gotta want to be the drummer in the band_   
_You gotta want to be a battering ram_   
_You gotta see the artistry_   
_In tearing the place apart with me baby."_

-Mother Mother

_John_

When John was a child, life had seemed simple. A small house in the country, plenty of space for a rambunctious little boy to run, the big scary city seemingly worlds apart, though in reality it was less than an hour away. His dad would sit on the back porch, strumming guitar and smiling as he watched his young son run around the yard. John didn’t understand poverty, hunger, or hardship. He didn’t know that their house was more than a little ramshackle, that his mother skipped meals so that he could eat, or that his dad made the exhausting commute into the city every single day, working his hands to the bone in order to provide for his family.

He was still young when they moved into the city. Gone were his big back yard and wide-open skies, replaced with monstrously tall buildings and pierced with occasional gun shots in the distance. The times when they weren’t so far in the distance, that’s when his mother would huddle with him on the floor of the bathroom, telling him stories about when she was a kid in this same city, and how his father was making something of himself. John still didn’t understand why his father was around less often, why they had to play hide and seek when the “fireworks” went off outside their house, or why his dad seemed to constantly look over his shoulder on the rare occasion they were able to go out together as a family.

After Faith was born, after they had moved out of the slums and into their Virginia Highlands home, as he got older and more mature, he began to look back and understand. By this point, his father had lost his carefree spirit. They had the house, the cars, the reputation. The kids went to the fancy school, wore the best clothes, the memories of their former life just a shadow in the past. But they weren’t happy, and as a teenager John wondered if it were really worth it, considering what his dad had given up getting there. 

Then his father died. That’s when John knew it wasn’t worth it, but at that point it was too late. The young man whose parents had tried to shelter him from the monsters of the world was suddenly thrust head first into the fray.

How do you explain that to someone who is already prejudiced against you? That was the problem he faced now, in the music room with Maggie and her family. He wanted to make her understand but wondered if that were even possible. He had some idea of the preconceived notions she harbored against him, remembering that fateful night at The Mill, when she saw the edges of his darkness before seeing any of the light.

“I would say I do know something about hardship,” he began quietly. “When my father died suddenly twelve years ago, I had to grow up very quickly. I left school, got my GED, and worked day and night to take care of my family. When I was old enough, I joined the army. It was the only way I could think to build a future for myself. If I was lucky at all, it would be because my mother fought just as hard to keep us afloat, instead of succumbing to the grief of losing her husband, all this with a young daughter that demanded her attention. After years of hard work and sacrifices, I can finally keep my family comfortable and repay my mom for everything she’s done for us. So, Maggie, while I count my blessings every day, I don’t think luck or fortune had very much to do with it.”

Maggie looked down at her hands as he spoke, her righteous fury seemingly quelled by his words. When she finally raised her eyes to meet his gaze, he saw something in them that he didn’t understand. Some anger was still there, for sure, but also confusion, and something that looked like fear.

Since John had stopped speaking, it seemed like all the air had been sucked out of the room. He stood, breaking the spell, and turned towards Mr. Hale. “I didn’t realize how late it is, I’m sorry if I’ve kept you up, Richard.” 

“Of course not, John, it’s been a pleasure having you here,” he responded, shaking John’s hand and patting him on the back with affection, trying to shake off some of the awkwardness of this exchange. 

Directing his attention back to Maggie, John gave a small smile, “Come on Maggie, I’d be proud if we could part on friendly terms.” He tried dialing up the southern charm, hoping some lightness would bring a smile back to her face. “I reckon we could both do well to try and be more understanding of our vastly different backgrounds. Maybe we could even have a more civil conversation, god willing and the creek don’t rise.” As they shook hands, he couldn’t resist clasping her hand in both of his for a moment, before she sharply pulled away.

“I reckon you’re right,” Maggie said with a slightly mocking tone. He was taken aback by the sudden resurgence of her hostility.

The desire to escape was once again creeping in, snaking its way into his lungs, making it difficult to take a deep breath. So, John turned back to Mr. and Mrs. Hale. “Thank you again for your hospitality, I really appreciate it. Y’all have a good one.” With that he left the room, before Mr. Hale could move to walk him to the door.

Once in his car, he sat for a moment, mind reeling with the strange events of the evening. He could feel his pulse pounding in his throat as he struggled to regain his composure. Why was it that every time he thought he was making headway with that exceptionally disagreeable girl, she did something that pushed them back? More importantly, why did he care so much when she was so infuriating? These questions kept circling in his mind as he drove home, her scornful words echoing in his ears.

_Maggie_

Her hands were suddenly the most interesting thing in the world as she listened to his explanation. She couldn’t bring herself to face him as he laid his story at her feet, knowing that all the while that he was looking intently at her, trying to gauge her reaction. And somehow, she knew that what he spoke wasn’t even the whole story. There was something underneath his voice, dark and buried, something worse that he hadn’t let out. 

At the same time, she was still furious. Who was he to make her feel sorry for him, when he had everything he needed in life? Did it matter whether you earned your privilege or if it were handed to you? He was still better than the vast majority. None of what he said changed the fact that she’d seen him beat a man to the floor, or that he and his colleagues were on the cusp of creating an industry disaster. Then again, listening to the sound of his voice, she could imagine a scared young man making tough life choices much too early. It was commendable that he made so many sacrifices at such a young age, and apparent that he took his responsibilities seriously. He would do anything for his family and the people he cared for. Maggie wondered what it would be like to be loved like that. 

With this disturbing turn of thought, she finally looked up at John and caught his gaze. In the moments their eyes were locked, she had the absurd notion that he could read her mind. She wasn’t an open book to most people, and it bothered her immensely that this random man- practically a stranger- seemed to know exactly what she was thinking. Her world was suddenly a nightmare, the kind where you’re standing in front of the class in your underwear. She was naked and exposed, a feeling she wasn’t used to and didn’t appreciate one bit.

The moment seemed to stretch into eternity as she sat frozen, pinned by the icy blue gaze of her captor. Then John stood up, snapping the bond that had tethered them, and she wondered what he had seen in her that made him pull away. An uncomfortable tension was winding around her chest, a strange insecurity that she wasn’t used to feeling. Maggie, ever confident and sure of herself. Independent, proud, and self-sufficient, but deep inside she wanted his approval— and it seemed she had been found lacking in his eyes. Another foreign feeling, adding to the turmoil.

She struggled to quiet the roaring in her ears while he father and John said their goodbyes. Somehow managing to stand without trembling, she rallied herself for this final interaction, desperate for him to leave so she could retreat to the safety and privacy of her room. But his smile, his light and joking tone, the perfect picture of the southern gentleman she knew he wasn’t, the warmth of his hands gently clasping hers— it was all too much.

Instantly regret washed over her, the sound of her voice harsh even to her own ears. John pulled back as if he’d been slapped, confusion flashing in his eyes briefly before he turned away. It was a low blow, she knew. If they’d been friends, she could have passed it off as a joke, but in the context of their interactions that night, it was downright malicious. Maggie was more disappointed in herself than anyone else in the room was, since she had been making a concerted effort to accustom herself to the strong accents she encountered. She was getting better at deciphering the meaning of some of the more colorful turn of phrases, but still had trouble with the occasional strong Appalachian drawl of the mountain folk.

All that effort seemed worthless now, if her first instinct was to use their differences as a weapon. After John left in a hurry, Maggie’s father turned his disappointed gaze towards her. “Margaret,” he said quietly. She knew he was serious when he used her real name, “What has gotten into you? I’m afraid you really hurt John’s feelings, making fun of him like that. After he was trying to be more agreeable, too.”

Maggie struggled to come up with some explanation for her actions, when she didn’t fully understand them herself. “I’m sorry, dad. It’s been hard getting used to the manners and culture down here. I’m tired; it’s so hot here, the humidity is so draining.” Weak excuses, and they all knew it. She collapsed back into her chair with a sigh, “I guess I misread the situation… back home, with my friends, we tease each other all the time. It’s like living in a foreign country, everyone is so different.”

Nodding sympathetically, Mrs. Hale chimed in, “And for him to tell us all about his family like that, it made me very uncomfortable. So awkward! Who knows what happened to his father, dying so suddenly as he said. It must have been a tragic car accident or something of that sort.” She shuddered delicately, glancing at Dixie who was nodding in agreement. 

Before Dixie could say anything regarding the awkward situation, Mr. Hale quickly said, “I’m afraid it was far worse than that, Maria. According to Bell, John’s father got mixed up with the wrong sort of people through his business ventures. He was shot during a… disagreement with these characters, a dispute about money or some product I believe. John worked so hard all these years in part to repay his father’s debts to the, well, let’s call them the leaders of the group he had slighted. It was important for the safety of Mrs. Thornton and Faith that it be paid in full, and for John to be able to separate his family from the, you know, unsavory organization.”

It was obvious that he was trying to sugarcoat the story to protect her perceived innocence. As if she hadn’t spent years living in a city with its own history of organized crime and gangs. While she tried to decipher the meaning behind her father’s vague story, she was overwhelmed by the implications. It made her sick to think of how awful and frightening that must have been, for a teenage boy no less. She stood up quickly, suddenly needing to retreat to the privacy of her own room. 

Swaying a bit as she stood, she reached out for the wall to steady herself. “Magpie?” her father asked with concern, noticing her sudden pallor. 

Somehow, she was able to start for the door without stumbling. “He sounds like a brave young man,” she said to her father, “I’m sorry if I offended him. Like I said, I’m very tired, so I’m going to bed. Goodnight.” With that she left the room, heading towards her bed with renewed urgency, leaving her parents and aunt Dixie staring after her with varying degrees of confusion written on their brows.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a shorter chapter than normal, but another update is coming very soon! I intended to make it all one chapter, but it was much longer than anticipated, so I decided to separate the two parts. Hope you enjoy, happy reading!


	7. Chapter 7

_"Stop it, come on_   
_You know I can't help it_   
_I got the mic_   
_And you got the mosh pit_   
_What will it take_   
_To make you admit that you were wrong?"_

-Taking Back Sunday

_John_

People streamed into the large building across the street as John looked out the window, watching the crowd trickle by, searching for signs of unrest, as always. It was the first sold out concert in the city in weeks, this time at The Temple, an old converted church ran by Watson. John could sense the excitement of the crowd on the street below, but something else was there, as well. He’d heard the murmurs, on the scene and among his staff, complaints about the outrageous fees and prices of even the smaller bands that struggled to fill venues. He signed, remembering the conversation he’d had with a promoter just the week before.

> _“My client has decided to skip Atlanta this tour. I’m sorry Mr. Thornton, but they can’t risk having another tiny crowd and low sales. It doesn’t make financial sense.”_

John shook his head, being pulled out of his reverie by a familiar face in the crowd below. He should have expected her to be there, since she and Becca were practically inseparable these days. At work, he’d heard Becca complaining about how expensive tickets were, but hoping the band was worth it. He hoped so, too. A disappointing performance would be another nail in the coffin of their business. The city couldn’t afford to be skipped on too many tours. Fans needed to enjoy themselves, show the bands and promoters that Atlanta could still sell out a concert hall, fill a stadium with people screaming their names.

“Well Thornton, it looks like some of us can still draw a crowd.” John’s attention was pulled away from the window by Watson, who was seated at the table with the other men. Another day, another meeting with his colleagues trying to figure out how to move forward as a team and revamp the industry. John knew he couldn’t do it alone, that he needed the help of these men. It was just too bad he didn’t trust most of them as far as he could throw them. 

Taking his seat back at the table, John sighed heavily. “I’m glad for the progress, but will it hold? Fall is coming, people will be busy, students will go back to their classes. We need to get a plan in place or else we’ll lose what’s left of our reputation and clients all together.”

Across the table, Hamper shrugged, “Maybe Watson was right, Thornton. Even with the fees and expense, the fans are still here. Maybe we’ve been worried about nothing. Bring in big enough bands and you’ll get big enough crowds.” Hamper was part owner of Motley Hall, a smaller venue that struggled to bring in big names during the best of times. 

John couldn’t agree. This was an anomaly of the current status quo, not the new normal. Plus, it was peak concert season; they shouldn’t be celebrating a single sold-out show during a time when all their venues should be full almost every night. He could tell that he wasn’t going to get anywhere with his colleagues tonight, so he said his goodbyes and made his way home, with one last glance at the Temple, wondering what was going on inside.

_Maggie_

As she stood in line to be let into The Temple, Maggie suddenly felt as if someone was watching her. Glancing around, she looked across the street just in time to see a familiar set of broad shoulders turn away from a window overlooking the crowd. It was beginning to seem like she would never escape the traces of him. She caught glimpses of his sharp eyes when she picked up Becca from work, saw the tight set of his jaw only somewhat relaxed when she happened upon him and her father in the music room, felt the tense aura of his presence whenever she was at The Mill for a show. Though, shows at The Mill had been less frequent, something she was acutely aware of, thanks to her association with Becca and Nick. 

Becca seemed to read her mind. “It feels like it’s been forever since we’ve gone out to a show,” she said, clearly excited for the band they were seeing.

Her brother was less enthusiastic. “Enjoy it while it lasts, Becks. One way or another, the golden days are over. This is just ridiculous. Forty-five bucks and eight extra for ‘processing fees’, whatever that even means. It’s robbery, pure and simple.” Maggie saw a few people around her nod, clearly listening to Nick’s rant. She agreed herself, it was an outrageous price to pay for an up and coming band, young and inexperienced, their first headlining tour.

“Even Green Day didn’t cost that much, a few years back!” Nick continued, getting warmed up now that he had more listening ears. “What do they think they’re playing at? Are they trying to push us to see how much they can squeeze out of us?”

“Can’t squeeze water out of a rock!” Someone shouted down the line. 

Nick clapped his hands together, drawing more attention. “Exactly! How much longer until none of us can afford a show? Who’s going to buy these outrageously priced tickets? And what about those of us who work in the business? Too much more of this nonsense and many of us will be out of a job completely!” There were murmurs of agreement throughout the crowd as the line started moving more steadily towards the doors. 

A short man Maggie recognized from other events spoke up, asking, “What do you suggest we do about it, then, Higgins?” 

It seemed like Nick had come prepared for this moment, since he had an answer ready at hand. The single word made Maggie’s stomach clench with dread, feeling like she was on the precipice of another dramatic change, this one out of her control entirely. 

“Boycott.” 

Startled expressions around her turned to contemplation, as they considered the potential in what Nick said, though they remained quiet, handing over their tickets at the entrance of The Temple to be scanned. Maggie could tell that some of the workers had overheard the conversation and were looking at Nick with interest. She then noticed another person looking over at them, this one with a different kind of interest. At first, she couldn’t quite place how she knew this man, but suddenly she realized where she had seen him before. The last time she’d seem him he was being drug out of The Mill, that fateful first night there. Stephen was his name, Becca had told her later. He wasn’t someone she had ever hoped to see again, yet here he was. She didn’t like the devious look on his face, or the way he slunk through the crowd and out of sight, as if he had somewhere else to be.

The Temple was gorgeous inside, but there was an undercurrent in the crowd as word spread from group to group about what Nick had said. It was obvious that many people were as worked up over this as he was, and Maggie could feel the mood shift before the main act took the stage. The band had played in The Temple before, as an opener, and were obviously stoked that their show had sold out. It was unfortunate timing that the lead singer was getting over a cold and couldn’t hit his high notes. This, coupled with the strange vibe of the room, threw the band off their game and resulted in what they would remember as the worst performance of their careers.

This recipe for disaster cemented the prevailing feeling of the crowd, their thoughts all echoing the word Nick had spoken earlier. Maggie felt bad for the band, bad for the crowd, and bad for the workers. She even felt bad for the owners, who she knew wouldn’t see this coming. The great unknown was hanging over the city, something dark and tumultuous on the verge of being released upon the unsuspecting victims. And Maggie, caught up in the drama of this place that wasn’t her home, had nowhere else to run.

_John_

It had been a long, tedious evening. Balancing the accounts was never his favorite thing to do, but it was particularly unpleasant tonight, since no matter how John crunched the numbers, they still came up short. He locked the door to The Mill then rubbed the bridge of his nose. As he turned towards home, he was startled by a figure stepping out of the shadows. 

“What do you want? I told you to stay away from here.” John’s already bad mood was fanned into anger at the sight of the man, Stephen, who’s original trouble making seemed so long ago. He looked no worse for the wear; John was glad his angry actions had caused no lasting damage, as much as the man deserved it. Why he was here, at The Mill, was a mystery.

With a smug smile on his face, Stephen said, “I’ve come to make you a deal. I can tell you what the masses are planning, in exchange, you call off your lackeys and let me back into The Mill.” 

Though John was curious, he was also enraged that this imbecile thought he’d ever make a deal with someone such as him. And to have the nerve to corner him at his own work place. The man was dangerous, and John had no doubt that he was carrying a weapon. “I don’t want anything from you. Get out of here.” He said firmly, hoping the smaller man would get the message. 

But Stephen was persistent, a quality John would normally find admirable. Instead, it irked him more when Stephen wouldn’t take no for an answer, saying, “I was at The Temple today, I heard the whole thing. You need an inside man.” 

He’d finally had enough, pushing Stephen out of the way as a bus rattled by, pulling into the stop across the street. “I said to go away. Don’t ever come near here again!” He tried to walk away, but Stephen blocked his exit again, this time with a knife in his hand, blade catching the light of the streetlamps. 

Before John could make his next move, they were both suddenly aware that they were no longer alone. “Who’s there?” He called into the shadows.

Nick stepped out into the light, Becca and Maggie safely a few paces behind him. “It’s just me, boss. Everything okay?” As Nick advanced towards the pair, eyes warily watching Stephen, John let out of breath and dropped his hand from his waistband. 

“Stephen was just leaving, weren’t you?” As John spoke, the other man scowled and smoothly closed his knife, knowing he was outnumbered.

Before stepping away, he couldn’t resist one last attempt. “Think about what I said, Thornton. Or you’ll be sorry. You know what I’m saying?” He stepped closer to John, speaking quietly, and John could see the malice glinting in his dark eyes. 

Not one that took kindly to being threatened, John gave a low growl, pushing the vile man to the ground, harder than he’d intended. Familiar blackness crept into the edges of his vision as he roared, “Don’t you ever dare show your face here again! The next time I see you, I won’t be so forgiving of your threats.” 

Stephen scrambled to his feet, flipping them the bird and calling over his shoulder as he fled, “We’ll see about that, won’t we?” He laughed while running down the street, a sinister sound hanging in the air as her disappeared around the corner.

_Maggie_

Though the night was still warm, the air thick and heavy, Maggie shivered as the maniacal laughter faded away. Even from a distance, she could see John’s chest heaving as he struggled to catch his breath and regain his composure. She and Becca cautiously made their way towards the two remaining men.

“Maybe we should have involved the police earlier, boss,” Maggie heard Nick saying quietly as the approached

John shook his head sharply, “You know we can’t afford that kind of attention, especially not now. The press is already watching, ready for any sign of further trouble. They’d tear us apart.” He looked up, noticing Becca and Maggie listening intently.

While Becca tried to pretend she hadn’t overheard his comments, Maggie wasn’t so discrete. “Nick is right, John, this isn’t something you should handle on your own. The police could—"

He cut her off, “I’d be obliged if you’d mind your own business, Miss Hale. This doesn’t involve you in the slightest.” His sharp, sarcastic tone reminded Maggie of the last time they had really spoke, something she had been struggling to put far out of her mind.

Those feelings bubbling back to the surface irked her. “Oh, I’m sorry, I forgot, you do things your own way down here, the law be damned,” she shot back, turning around, dragging Becca with her down the sidewalk. She didn’t look back to see if he watched after her, though she knew he would. 

She thought she heard John sigh and say, “It’s not safe for them to walk alone, stay with them.” But it could have been a trick of the wind. Either way, Nick appeared beside her, seeming nervous about leaving his boss behind on the shadowy street. Maggie got the distinct feeling that it wasn’t safe for John to walk home alone, either. Deep inside, she said a silent prayer that he made it home, unharmed.

Later, after she’d driven home and snuck past her parent’s room, she sat on her bed, thinking of how to respond to Eden’s latest email. Maggie was incredibly happy that she had decided to at least communicate with her cousin and closest friend, even if it meant the constant reminder that she was ignoring all the other unread emails that had stacked up since she left Boston. Eden was still looking for an explanation but seemed to accept that Maggie was determined to stay in the South, for the time being. She was also looking for reassurance that Maggie was at least content, because beyond her flighty selfish airs, Eden deeply cared about her cousin and wanted her to be happy.

Regrettably, Maggie wasn’t able to give her that reassurance. She felt bad as soon as she hit send but was desperately in need of someone to talk to. Becca wasn’t an option, she’d be so offended at Maggie’s private thoughts on her beloved city. Her father, mother, and aunt Dixie were all excluded as possibilities— they would find it hard to understand the complex feelings she was struggling with and trying to explain them would lead to a world of embarrassment. Eden was the obvious choice, and as she wrote out her thoughts, she felt a weight being lifted off her shoulders. Her cousin would just have to deal with the disappointment of knowing Maggie was secretly miserable.

I’ve never felt so unsafe before, Eden. Though most people are polite, there is an undercurrent of violence and unrest, just waiting to come to the surface. Oh, and there’s one more thing that hell and Atlanta have in common. They’re both scorching hot.

Her thoughts turned once more to John. Did he make home okay? Was he now in his own bedroom, thinking over the same events she was? Maggie’s cheeks reddened at the thought of John in his bed, though it was ridiculous. She was no blushing virgin, but something about him made her feel like an awkward teenager again.

_Enough_. She chided her inner voice. The email was sent, the hour was late, and it was time for her to shut off her brain and get some rest. Even so, she lay awake most of the night, tossing and turning, thinking of a strong man full of concern for her safety. 

_John_

He took a winding route home, trying to shake the suspicion that he was being followed. What he wouldn’t give to have the security of Nick at his side, but the girls’ safety was more important than his own. The city, like most cities, was never fully quiet, never completely asleep. Was he mistaking the usual noises for footsteps? Maybe he was being paranoid, but it took him twice the time to get home after walking in circles to shake the potentially imaginary tail.

Once in the safety of his own home, security system armed, and doors securely locked, he started trembling. This time it wasn’t the anger that shook his body, but the other emotions of the night’s events. Fear. Sadness. Loneliness. Guilt. He was a man that disliked violence, who had been forced down a violent path more times than he could count. He was acutely aware that he’d been prepared to neutralize that scumbag, Stephen, if the situation had called for it. _Neutralize_ , he scoffed to himself, _call it what it is, Thornton. Wouldn’t be the first time you’ve killed a man_. But those were the thoughts he fought tooth and nail, the ones that snuck up on him when he lowered his guard.

If only Maggie hadn’t been there, hadn’t once again felt the brunt of his temper. Why did she always see him at his worst? Though he shuddered to think of what would have happened if they hadn’t appeared at that moment. He wasn’t fooling himself, he knew it was either him or Stephen. 

John didn’t think he’d seen the last of that terrible man, either. He didn’t think those sinister threats were empty, and he knew what hatred could do to a man. And Stephen hated him, though he wasn’t sure why. Whatever the reason, John wouldn’t go down without a fight. He didn’t think Stephen knew who he was dealing with, but either way, he couldn’t see a scenario where things ended well. 

With a resigned sigh, John put on his pajamas and crept down to the music room. He needed the comfort and security of the melodies, to relax and clear his mind of the day’s struggles. It wasn’t long before he slumped against the chair, falling into a restless sleep filled with gunshots and blood. 

In the early morning hours, he was startled awake by the house alarm blaring. Instantly alert, he weighed his options; his gun was safely in his room, probably too far away to be useful. The kitchen was much closer, so he darted in and grabbed the biggest knife he could find before sneaking towards the door. As he rounded the corner, the intruder caught sight of his shadow and made a run for the open door. 

John was about to take off after them when he heard his mother’s voice calling down the hall. “John? Is everything okay?” Instead of following the hooded figure, he locked the door and disabled the blaring alarm.

“It’s okay mom, just a false alarm. I must not have pulled the door closed all the way, and the wind pushed it open.” He didn’t want to raise his mother’s concern, since she had enough to worry about. There was nothing she could do about the situation, anyway. Grabbing the phone to call the security company and tell them the same story, he made his way to his room to get his handgun. John spent the rest of the night in front of the door, gun in hand, ready, in case the intruder decided to return. As dawn broke, he headed off to his room to get dressed for the new day, with bleary eyes and a heart that wouldn’t stop racing.


	8. Chapter 8

_“I think I've known it for a long time_   
_Suffice to say, it's been a while_   
_You're too afraid to face the outcome_   
_Quite likely, you're a failure_   
_It's a shitty thing to say, but hey man - the clock is ticking”_

-Motion City Soundtrack

_John_

It was nice to see The Mill once again in a flurry of activity. The roadies were unloading sound equipment and lighting from the truck, there was a line at the box office, for the first time in weeks. It had been much too quiet lately. There were a few young men replacing boards on the side of The Mill and touching up paint. John looked over it all with a sense of satisfaction that had escaped him of late. 

Mrs. Thornton had stopped by to check on John and check up on the work being done. He appreciated his mother’s assistance; her shrewd eyes often caught small mistakes that slipped his notice. While she was watching the work progress on the outside wall, there was suddenly a scream and a scuffle. 

As John was about to rush over to see what the problem was, his phone rang, the number of an important promoter flashing on his caller ID. He answered, seeing that his mother has the situation under control, anyway. 

One of the young workers had shot through his hand with a nail gun. It was a gruesome injury, making Mrs. Thornton flinch at the sight. The boy couldn’t be more than 20 but carried himself with the weariness of someone twice his age. He stuck out his hand for Mrs. Thornton to examine at her request, looking queasy and grimacing in pain.

“I’m sorry, son, you’re going to have to go to the hospital. I’ll have John call for the ambulance in just a moment.” She said, after a cursory exam to confirm that the nail had indeed gone all the way through his palm.

The boy blanched whiter, which she hadn’t thought possible. “Please, no ma’am. I can’t afford the ER, much less an ambulance ride! I don’t have insurance. It’ll ruin my family.”

She could tell that this young man was more afraid of the financial repercussions of the hospital bills, than he was at the thought of losing his hand. She sighed, hating that this was the way of the world they lived in. Turning to the other young man standing there, she said, “Did you drive here?” When he nodded, she continued. “Take him to the hospital in Midtown, the one near Peachtree and Pine. I’ll call ahead, talk to some people for you. Don’t worry,” she said, cutting off the injured boy’s protests. “They’ll take care of you. Go straight there, okay? Do as I say, focus on getting well, and everything will be alright.”

With that, she sent the young men on their way, hoping that they listened to her instructions. Wearily, she went inside The Mill to make her phone calls, wishing she could pull enough strings to help every youth in a similar situation. She took solace in this small act, glad that she was able to help even one person, as kind hearted people had helped her family in their years of struggle. 

John was hanging up the phone from his call as she walked by. “Thank you, mom, for handling that. Everything is okay, then?” He asked, having noticed her sending the boys off.

With a small smile she nodded, glad to help her son, even in the simplest ways. “Yes, I’ve just got to make a few calls real quick, then I’ll be on my way home.” She disappeared inside to settle the matter. 

_Maggie_

The Thornton’s house was not what she had expected. In her mind, she’d always imagined a bleak, cold, modern building, fitting for someone like John and his permanent scowl. Instead, as she sat in the living room of their house, she looked around noticing the warm touches of the historic home. It was a huge place, as you’d expect, but not ostentatiously so. It was the kind of house she could imagine living comfortably in, filled with happy children and pets, laughter and memories. Shaking her head to rid it of those odd thoughts, she looked up as Mrs. Thornton reentered the room.

“Here’s the name and number of my contact at Emory. That’s where you’ll want to go, it’s the best hospital around. My friends will make sure y’all are taken care of. But you could have called if it was so urgent or just sent a message.” Mrs. Thornton said as she handed Maggie the slip of paper, looking at her curiously.

Maggie shook her head quickly, “Oh, no, it wasn’t terribly urgent. I came because, well, I don’t want to worry dad but I’m afraid my mother’s health is taking a turn for the worse. Becca said you were on some public health committees, so I thought you would know the best place to take her… when the time comes, you know.” In truth, she wasn’t sure she would have gotten a straight answer from Mrs. Thornton if she wasn’t present in the flesh before her.

Mrs. Thornton seemed at least somewhat sympathetic at the mention of Mrs. Hale’s failing health. “Yes, John mentioned your mother was sickly. I’m sure the doctors here will fix her right up, whatever it is that ails her.” Maggie doubted that, having watched her mother these months and noted the changes that her father seemed to willfully ignore.

Sighing, she stood up. “I’m sorry to bother you with this Mrs. Thornton. Thank you again for the information.” 

The older woman eyed her carefully before saying, “It’s no trouble at all, Maggie. But maybe you haven’t heard there’s talk of a boycott. Not just of The Mill, but all the venues in the city. Though I can’t imagine that’s escaped your notice, considering the crowd you run with.”

This, of course, was not news to Maggie. Not sure how to interpret Mrs. Thornton’s tone, Maggie tried to skirt the implication that she somehow has inside information on the plans. “What do they think they would gain by a boycott? Cheaper tickets?” She knew the answer already but thought it wise to get the other woman’s opinion on the matter.

“Gain?” She snorted. “There is nothing to gain. Of course, they say it’s the tickets, the fees, the expense. But they know nothing of how to run a business and are jealous of the men like John who have fought their way to the top. When you’re at the top, Maggie, there will always be someone below trying to pull you down.” With a solemn look on her face, Mrs. Thornton crossed her arms, indicating the visit was over. 

As she walked to the bus stop, Maggie thought about what Mrs. Thornton had said. Was there truth to her words? Was jealousy at least somewhat at the heart of the matter? She didn’t like thinking poorly of her friends like Nick, and the other people she had come to know through the Higgins. Regardless, she was trying to see both sides of the issue, somehow knowing that it would soon be important.

_John_

The call had not gone well, Slickson being his slimy self, somehow always making a bad situation worse. What was he playing at, planning to advertise one price then charge another? It seemed like he purposefully wanted to enrage the masses, to push them past their limit once and for all. John wasn’t sure what the end game was, but he’d have to be more careful in his future dealings with that scumbag.

And now he was short two workers, with the outside wall only half finished. He looked critically at the wall, the work left to complete, before rolling up his sleeves and picking up the discarded nail gun. The young men who had remained behind after the accident looked at him in confusion, not used to seeing one of the owners deigning to do manual labor. When John climbed the ladder and motioned to one of the boys to come hold the board he was replacing, they shrugged at each other and got back to work.

The much-needed repairs were done in short order, and John was grateful for the cool breeze that ruffled his hair as he climbed down the ladder. He walked back around the corner, enjoying the energy and calm that he gained from working with his hands. Too much time spent in his office, he knew, made him jumpy and agitated. It would be beneficial to make a point of doing more physical work around the mill on a regular basis. He made a mental note to try and work that into his schedule.

An unexpected sight pulled him from his thoughts, as he noticed Maggie walking over to talk to some young women in the box office line. Curious, he wandered over to see what they could be talking about. Of course, it wasn’t polite to eavesdrop. But this was his property, after all. It was better for everyone if he kept aware of the goings on around The Mill. At least that’s how he justified it to himself as he listened into their conversation with interest.

Not to mention that it had been some weeks since he had even a chance to speak with Maggie. He wasn’t sure that she was actively avoiding him now, but their paths seemed to rarely cross these days. It was with this thought in his mind that he was noticed by the girls Maggie was speaking with, their mouths suddenly clamped shut as they backed away nervously. _Caught in the act_ , he thought ruefully, as Maggie turned around to see what the disturbance was.

_Maggie_

It was early afternoon, usually the hottest part of the day, but Maggie was beginning to wish she had brought a jacket. The wind had a bite to it, a promising sign that Atlanta was ready to leave the sweltering summer behind. As she rounded the corner by the mill, she saw a hive of activity. People were lined up at the box office, and the loading bay doors were open with workers scurrying around like ants, unloading sound equipment.

“Hey Maggie!” a younger girl in the ticket line called out and waved her over to where she was standing with a friend.

Maggie headed towards her, the sister of one of Becca’s friends that accompanied them to a lot of shows. “Hello, Jenny, how’s your sister?” She remembered that Becca said Jenny’s sister had broken her leg crowd surfing. 

With a rueful smile, Jenny responded, “A bit better, though she’ll be laid up for weeks, I’m sure. She’s right bout to go stir crazy, cooped up in our apartment.”

Smiling, Maggie thought about the girl in question. She was definitely a firecracker, and her sister was more of the same. “You’re planning on going to a show soon, I assume?” She asked the girls.

Jenny’s friend sighed, “I guess, though we thought we could finagle some cheaper if we showed up in person. But I don’t think that’s going to work out. It’s been pretty ridiculous lately.”

The same thing is on everyone’s mind, Maggie noted. “So, will you join the boycott? If there is one, I mean?” For some reason, she felt it was important to find out how serious this threat of boycott was.

The girls didn’t answer; they were looking over Maggie’s shoulder in stunned embarrassment, blushing at being caught talking about such a sensitive subject. Of course, only a few people would make someone so suddenly embarrassed, and Maggie thought she knew who the culprit was. 

Even though she steeled herself in anticipation, the sight of him still took her breath away. He was right in front of her, steely eyes watching the scene with interest, pinning her feet to the concrete. His sleeves were carelessly rolled up, revealing muscular forearms that glistened with recent hard work. Standing so close, she could see the beginnings of stubble making its appearance on his jaw line, and she could tell by the look on his face that he had heard most, if not all, of the conversation. 

Eager to brush off her conversation with the girls, Maggie said quickly, “I was just visiting your mother, she was kind enough to give me the name of some contacts at the hospital.”

John’s brow furrowed slightly, concerned, “Are you sick?” he asked. Maggie thought it odd that he would assume the information was for herself and not her mother, who he knew to be in poor health. She decided to ignore that strangeness for now.

“No, no, for my mom, of course. Just so I’m prepared, when- if- the time comes that she needs a higher level of care.” She didn’t like thinking about that, but it was obvious that this responsibility was to fall on her shoulders. 

Visibly relieved, John glanced back at the giggling girls Maggie had been speaking with. She imagined that he experienced that sort of thing often, being so handsome yet so unapproachable. She wondered if he knew the effect he had on women, or if he was so absorbed in his work that he remained oblivious. No one ever spoke of John in the context of a relationship, and as far as Maggie knew, he stayed happily single. It was embarrassing, but she had tried to ask around about him without raising too many questions.

He turned and starting walking away, clearly uncomfortable being the center of attention, if only for two young women. Maggie hurried to walk with him, enjoying this strange moment of civility between the two of them. “I think you’ll find I’m still struggling to fit in here, but have at least made some friends in the process,” she said casually, making conversation.

A half smile appeared on John’s face. “I’m sure you could make better friends than with gossipy girls like Jenny and her crowd.” Maggie thought it interesting that he knew her by name but figured there wasn’t much that escaped his notice. 

Before she realized what was happening, he had walked her to the bus stop and stood waiting with her. “They weren’t telling me any good gossip, that’s for sure,” she said ruefully. 

“There’s no need, they told it all to the reporter who was here just before you. They weren’t afraid to discuss the potential boycott and their enlightened ideas on the way we run our businesses.” She looked sharply at him as he spoke but couldn’t discern any anger in his tone or expression, only a detached acceptance. 

Curious to explore his feelings, she asked cautiously, “And do you mind, if people talk to the press?”

John shrugged, as if it didn’t bother him at all. “Should I? I won’t apologize for how I run The Mill. But I won’t be told how to do so by people who have no idea what they are talking about.”

“And what if there is a boycott, what will you do if your workers participate?” He gave a startled look at her pointed question, and Maggie worried it was too specific. She was trying to figure out what repercussion there might be for her friends in the future but was afraid John’s shrewd eyes saw right through her thinly veiled question.

Looking thoughtful for a moment, he crossed his arms, leaning against the street lamp. “I suppose, as long as they don’t do anything to actively undermine my running of The Mill, then it’s none of my business how my staff uses their money or spends their free time. Now, if they take to the streets, and are vocal against myself and the other owners, well, that would be a different story.” He gave Maggie a long look, peering intensely at her with an inscrutable expression. 

She thought he meant this as a warning, to herself and her friends. Was it given in kindness, as though he wanted to protect her from the storm to come, or was it menacing, since he knew Nick and his penchant for grandstanding? Either way, the message was received, whatever his intentions behind it.

_John_

Lord, if nothing else, she was striking. As they stood, both looking like kids caught with their hands in the cookie jar, he was hit full force with the intensity of her eyes. It felt like they saw everything, could interpret every nuance of his expression. At this moment, they looked guilty at having been caught discussing the potential for his financial downfall. 

Her close proximity was very distracting, making it difficult to focus on what she was saying. That’s why he had a moment of sudden panic when she mentioned the hospital. Of course, it wasn’t for her, but for her mother. He felt relieved, yet foolish, a feeling amplified by the laughter of the girls in line. It seemed they thought of him as a big joke, and why shouldn’t they? Standing in broad daylight, embarrassing himself for all the world to see. He decided it would be best to walk away.

Though he was pleasantly surprised that Maggie decided she wanted to continue their interaction, he wasn’t necessarily enjoying the turn the conversation was taking. The boycott was all any one wanted to talk about these days. People on both sides seemed intent on stirring up trouble, instead of working together to find solutions. He knew it wasn’t all black and white; judging from the nature of her questions, Maggie knew it too. 

What was she getting at, asking about his staff? He could see the anxiety in her expression, making him wonder if it was just friendly concern, or if her interests ran deeper in regard to a certain staff member. For some reason, John didn’t like that train of thought. 

“Wouldn’t it be better to talk to your workers, before it ever gets to that point? They have as much interest in the success of The Mill as you do.” He was pulled out of his reverie by another pointed question. Maggie certainly didn’t pull any punches.

Noting her bus in the distance, he said, “Everyone here, from the owners, to the staff, to the fans, will do what they think is for their own good. We’re headstrong down here, an independent bunch, for better or worse. I can’t force them to do anything, to listen to anything. Until we can agree to work together, nothing I say will change their minds, only harden their opinion against me.” He didn’t tell her that he had already tried her method. The conversations he had with Nick over a beer after work always devolved into an argument. Headstrong, indeed, both of them. 

Maggie was looking over his shoulder now, her lips pulled into a half-frown. He turned around to see what she found displeasing and saw his mother at the top of The Mill stairs across the street, watching them with her own frown mirroring Maggie’s. It seemed he and Nick weren’t the only two headstrong people destined to face off. He felt torn, wanting to say something to Maggie in order to continue their conversation, but her bus was pulling in and her mood had soured. 

“I’ve got to get back to work. Have a nice day, Maggie,” he said, stepping back as she boarded the bus. She shot one last glance at Mrs. Thornton, who was still watching their interaction closely from her vantage point on the stairs, before turning as the bus driver closed the doors behind her. 

John wondered what the two women were thinking; but he had never been good at discerning what was on a woman’s mind. He didn’t think it was anything good, judging from the expression on his mother’s face. It didn’t matter, though, for at the moment there was too much to do. He shook off the strange feeling and went back to work, much to the relief of Mrs. Thornton. That girl couldn’t be affecting him too much, if he was able to focus squarely on the tasks at hand. Mrs. Thornton thought perhaps she was worried for nothing. She was wrong, but it was a nice thought.


	9. Chapter 9

_“Remember the people that we loved_   
_Magic_   
_And those we loved but forgot_   
_Tragic_   
_Time is unbending_   
_I want to be never-ending_   
_And if I say it enough it might come true_   
_I'll see you soon”_

-Jukebox the Ghost

_Maggie_

Becca seemed to find the whole situation hilarious. “It wasn’t funny!” Maggie protested, while they were sitting in the park the next day, enjoying the cooler weather while it lasted. “She was just staring at me, like I was trying to snatch her precious son out from under her nose. As if.”

This made Becca laugh even more, before straightening up and giving Maggie a sly look. “Don’t pretend like you haven’t thought about it. I’ve seen the way you look at him, all starry eyed.”

“That’s the way everyone looks at him! You do it too, you goose.” Maggie could feel her cheeks heating up at the implication, even though she knew what she said was the truth. He had that effect on everyone, men and women alike.

Becca nodded, smirking, “You’re right, you wouldn’t stand a chance with all the competition.”

That wasn’t exactly what Maggie meant, but she counted it as a victory. “They can have at him, and more power to them at that.” She decided to change the subject a bit. “When I have kids, I won’t be a helicopter parent like her, not when they’re full grown adults.”

There was an awkward silence, making Maggie wonder what she said wrong. “Well, I won’t have to worry about that,” Becca said vaguely, plucking a blade of grass to play with.

Not sure if that was an invitation to further discussion or not, Maggie decided to plow ahead. “What do you mean, Becks?” She tried to sound less curious and more sympathetic, but her natural tone was somewhat intrusive to begin with, at least compared to the smooth southern drawls more common in her new home.

Becca, for her part, seemed glad she asked. “I had cancer, when I was a kid. All the chemo and radiation, it messes with your body. The doctors don’t think it likely that I can ever have kids of my own. I don’t think I even want any, not after seeing what my parents went through with me.”

“You don’t talk about your parents much.” Maggie had wondered where Nick and Becca’s parents were but there hadn’t been a good opportunity to ask outright.

Smiling, Becca shook her head. “You don’t waste time beating around the bush, do you? No, my parents split up when I was little, mom leaving my dad alone to raise two kids, one with cancer, to boot. Dad works on an oil rig in the gulf. Cancer treatment isn’t cheap, you know?”

They sat there a moment in companionable silence, each off in their own thoughts. Maggie was glad that Becca’s dad loved her so much, had taken care of her in the face of all those difficulties. “He must be a really good father, to go through so much for you,” she said, voicing her thoughts and breaking the silence. 

She nodded, “For sure, he’s given up everything for us. You know how it is, though, dads and their little girls.” Maggie wasn’t sure she did know, but remained silent as Becca continued, “Just like moms and their little boys.” The smile was back, as she directed the conversation back to lighter topics, ones that she could use to tease Maggie. “I’m sure your mom would be the same as old Mrs. Thornton, if she had a son to hover over.”

Another awkward pause, while Maggie decided what to say. Her friend had just revealed a great deal about herself, wasn’t it only fair to do the same? “She does. Have a son, I mean. I have an older brother, too.”

Becca looked sharply up at Maggie, incredulous. “And you’ve never mentioned him? After I complain about Nick all the time?” She seemed slightly hurt, but also intrigued.

“Because we don’t talk about him.” It was that simple. Her parent’s barely spoke his name, and she hadn’t mentioned him to anyone outside the family in years.

Laying back on the blanket they had strewn on the grass, Becca sighed. “Well, quit your lollygagging, you know I love a good story.”

_John_

The terracotta tiles of the porch felt cool under John’s hands, as he paused to sit on the steps for a moment before heading inside. Another frustrating day at work, another conversation that went nowhere with Nick. Nick, his right-hand man, who apparently was the new figurehead for the boycott movement. It hurt him, in some strange way, that they couldn’t see eye to eye on something that was sure to have devastating effects on the both of them. Even worse, it was all so pointless. Boycott or no, John felt the situation slipping out of his control, all the hard work and sacrifice falling away into nothing. He thought about what he’d told Maggie, just the day before, about the ramifications of his staff openly fighting against him and The Mill. It wasn’t a happy thought, considering what’d he’d have to do to Nick- and Becca, he supposed- if things continued in their present course.

There was no point in feeling sorry himself. He’d learned early on that wallowing got you nowhere fast; he hadn’t made it this far just to give up. That wasn’t in his nature, even as a child. He was not the kind of man who expected things to be handed to him, or that looked for an easy way out. No, he’d figure something out, just like he always did. This wouldn’t be his first brush with adversity, and certainly wasn’t the worst. Memories of his time spent in the army rose to the surface, unbidden. Those were the memories he fought against day and night, the ones that haunted him in his darker moments, that forced their way through any small amount of happiness he managed to achieve.

With effort, he decided to leave those ghosts in the past for now, though they were sure to return at the next available moment. He stood up and went inside the house, greeting his mother and sister, noting that they were both absorbed in their own occupations. Mrs. Thornton was addressing envelopes with a practiced flowing script. Meanwhile, Faith seemed to be completing what appeared to be a personality quiz in an issue of Cosmopolitan magazine. 

Sitting down heavily, John absently watched his mother for a moment. “It’s hard to believe it’s already that time of year again, isn’t it?” 

Mrs. Thornton’s hand stilled, and she looked sharply up at her son. “It did come up quickly. You don’t think we should cancel this year, do you?” She asked with worry in her brow. “Or at least postpone until all this business is sorted out?”

“No, no,” John was quick to reassure her. “I can imagine the things the reporters would have to say about that- no, we want them to think everything right as rain. Cancelling the party would be a sign of defeat. We need to make a show of strength.” He glanced at Faith, to gauge her reaction to the conversation. She remained blissfully undisturbed, seemingly oblivious to the social and financial turmoil taking place right under her pert, perfectly tanned nose.

What he wouldn’t give to have been able to salvage some of that innocence from his own youth. Faith, by virtue of being both significantly younger and female, had been largely sheltered from the difficulties their family faced in the years after their father’s death. John had intentionally seen to it that she was untouched by the hardships he faced on a daily basis, the stress of keeping their family afloat while trying to settle his father’s affairs. He had made a lot of sacrifices to ensure her a comfortable and stable life. But there were times, like the present, that made him regret spoiling her so much, coddling her to such a degree that she became self-absorbed.

Deciding to dwell on more pleasant topics, he turned his attention back towards his mother. “So, who made the cut this year?”

“Oh, the usual suspects. The Fosters, the Slicksons. Of course, the Browns, though they'll be in Hilton head, just like they are every year. The Hales will come, don't you think?” she gave her son a pointed look, trying to gauge his reaction to the mention of their name.

Suddenly interested in the conversation, Faith cut in, “I hope the Hale’s know how lucky they are to be invited. I’m sure it would do Mr. Hale some good to be introduced to people like the Foster’s, you know, to help find more students,” she said with an air of disdain, as if she thought John was inviting the Hale’s out of a sense of charity.

Her tone irritated John. “I doubt our guest list will influence their decision, Faith,” he said tersely.

“Oh, you would know, wouldn’t you, John?” Faith fired back, setting her magazine aside and focusing her full attention on her brother. “Especially since you spend as much time at their house as you do at your own. I’m sure Maggie sees you more than I do! I don’t know why you think they’re so special, so much better than everyone else.”

The harsh words caught him off guard, making him pause for a moment and giving his mother time to voice her own opinion. “He’s a nice enough fellow, maybe a bit too scholarly. Mrs. Hale, she’s too sickly to be of much company. But that girl of theirs, so highfalutin, walking around with her nose so high in the air that she’d drown in rainstorm- a piano teacher’s daughter! Who does she think she is?”

Faith was clearly enjoying this rare moment of agreement with her mother, so she added, “And she’s so pale! She doesn’t work out, doesn’t play sports or even run, has never stepped foot in a tanning bed, I’m sure.”

This pushed John over the edge. “Tell me, Faith, where else have you found her lacking? You could probably write an entire book on what it would take to bring her up to your lofty standards.”

“John,” his mother frowned, “Maggie told us herself that she’s not into fitness like Faith is. Maybe if you’d stop badgering us about her, we’d like her as much as you do.”

Crossing her arms in defiance, Faith shook her head. “No, I don’t think I could ever like her.” She sounded like a spoiled child, though John supposed it wasn’t anyone’s fault but his own.

He stood up and paced for a moment, before walking over to the table his mother was working at, trying to ignore Faith as she rolled her eyes and made a show of returning her attention to her magazine. “I just wish y’all would at least try to make an effort to like her,” he said, sitting down and taking some of the unfinished envelopes from the stack.

The nagging idea that had formed previously in Mrs. Thornton’s mind returned with a vengeance. “Why? What’s she to you, John. Are you interested in her? I doubt she feels the same. As a matter of fact, I do believe I’ve heard talk of an old boyfriend back in Boston, a big shot lawyer or something, that her family thinks she will make up with.”

This was news to him, but he pushed down the sting in his heart produced by his mother’s comment. “You’re right, she’d never date someone like me.”

“Of course, a yankee like her would never deem to stoop so low as to date a southerner. She’s too big for her britches. Though I don’t know where she thinks she could find anyone better.” He knew his mother meant no offense in her words; she probably intended them as a compliment, in her own way. That didn’t make them any less hurtful, though.

Looking down at the blank envelope in front of him, he said, “Then trust me, this has nothing to do with my feeling some sort of way about Maggie. But she is the Hale’s only child. Mr. Hale is my friend, a man I have grown to respect and who has been very kind and patient. This is the last time I will say this- I would appreciate it if y’all would be friendly to Maggie and her family.”

Across the room, Faith, who had obviously been paying more attention to their conversation than she let on, let out a snort. “I just don’t understand why we have to talk about her so much. It’s annoying. I’m tired of hearing her name every second of every day, I’m fixing to lose it.”

John was also tired of this discussion, and tired of Faith’s bad attitude. “What would you rather talk about, Faith? Would a boycott be more fitting to your dainty sensibilities?” His irritation made the words come out more harshly than he’d intended. Both women stared at him as if he’d lost his mind. Frustrated, he pushed back his chair and left the room without another word, leaving his mother and sister wondering what on earth was wrong with him.

_Maggie_

Though it wasn’t a story she had really told anyone, it flowed out of her as if she’d been waiting to let it out for years. “It feels like a very long time ago, but at the same time it seems like just the other day. Finn was always a bit wild, a little reckless. He’s several years older than me, so I looked up to him a lot. It broke my heart when he decided to leave to join the army. My mother never seemed to recover from his absence, either. But he wanted to go- dad said we couldn’t stop him; that it would be good for him, help him find himself and build character. Though I know he always hoped Finn would be a musician, like him.” 

Maggie paused, memories of her brother’s excited face washing over her. “Finn wanted an adventure, but that’s not what the army gave him. He was never cut out for war, didn’t have the temperament to withstand the kinds of things soldiers deal with every day. He never expected to be deployed deep in the war zone, to have to witness all the monsters on both sides of the fight. That’s how they lure them in, you know, new recruits. They make so many promises, but don't tell them about the terrible parts. Finn was a teenager, barely out of high school. Too young to be making those kinds of life or death decisions.” 

Sitting up now, Becca was listening intently to her friend’s story. “So, what did he do about it?”

This was the part that hurt the worst. What did he do about it, indeed? “He left,” she said simply.

“Left? What do you mean he left?” Becca was incredulous. “The army isn’t something you can just up and leave at your whimsy.” 

Now Maggie found it hard to hold Becca’s gaze, embarrassment painting her cheeks. “Exactly. He’s a deserter. That’s why we don’t talk about him. He didn’t want to kill innocent people- I can’t fault him for that. But he disgraced our family, basically exiled himself. And now, mom is sick, and she’ll never get to see him again. Like I said, I don’t think she ever got over that.” 

They sat quietly for a moment, letting Maggie’s words hang in the air, before Becca asked, “Where is he now?”

“Last we heard from him, he was in Mexico. We don’t hear from him often, though. I guess it’s safer that way, for him.” She sighed, torn between the disappointment and sympathy that always filled her heart when she thought about her brother.

Becca wasn’t fond of seeing her friend so distraught. “Well, he’s not the first person to ever desert like that. Maybe it wouldn’t be so dangerous… and after all these years?” She asked, unsure of the laws surrounding such matters.

It was something Maggie had considered herself, many times, but always with the same answer. “No. The country’s at war. The government doesn’t take these things lightly, a soldier running away during wartime. Maybe it would turn out okay, but the maximum penalty is death- what if they decided to make an example out of him? Either way, the stress of it all would be too much for my parents. No, he should stay where he is for now.” 

Still trying to find the silver lining, Becca made one more attempt. “At least his actions came from a good heart, not wanting to fight a war he didn’t believe in, against people he didn’t see as the enemy. It took courage to stand up for that, even if he went about the wrong way.” 

“I guess,” Maggie said, with a mournful shake of her head. “Though I wish he hadn’t been so very _courageous_ to go to war in the first place. At least then he’d be here for mom, when she needs him most.”

Once again, they were silent, feeling enough words had been said for the moment. Each of the girls’ considered the other one’s tragic family history, the revelations weighing heavily on their minds long after they went their separate ways for the day. 

_John_

Sitting in his office, still fuming from the conversation with his mom and sister, John absentmindedly turned over the blank envelope and invitation in his hands. He hadn’t even realized he’d brought it with him when he stormed out of the room. It didn’t look much different than the ones from the year before, or the year before that. His mother preferred understated and simple invitations, and John let her handle most of the details in planning their yearly dinner party. 

Over the years, the party had become something of a big deal. It had started as a way to introduce himself to his new colleagues, while also celebrating the end of a successful summer. Now it included the who’s who of the city’s music industry and was largely hailed as one of the most important events of year. This required a lot of planning, something John was more than happy to hand off to his mother. She started planning for the next year’s soiree almost before the current one was over.

It also usually coincided with the lineup announcement for The Mill’s annual music festival, Excelsior, which took place in the spring. Tickets for the festival went on sale the same day, and usually sold out quickly. This year’s lineup certainly wasn’t the best, but John was satisfied with the bands he’d managed to book for the event. It was a solid group, sure to bring in a good crowd and guarantee a good time. At least, as long as the current status of things held; he shuddered to think what could happen if things escalated too soon.

That’s why he needed a backup plan. This wasn’t something he could leave to chance- if the boycott started in the near future, he had to have a way to ensure the festival was still a success. An idea sprouted in his mind as he looked over the invitation once more. Maybe there was something he could do, after all. But first, he needed to discuss some things with an old friend, and he thought the party would be the perfect opportunity to do so.

He sat down quickly at the desk, addressing the envelope and jotting down a short message before he changed his mind. John knew his friend wouldn’t turn down the invitation, and this was a conversation he felt needed to take place in person. Besides, Williams wasn’t an easy man to get in touch with. The rock star life had that effect on people, in John’s experience. 

No, it would be better to discuss this face to face. Plus, it would give him time to iron out some of the details. He knew his friend wouldn’t like it- hell, John didn’t like it himself. But he wouldn’t go down without a fight, and he thought Williams would understand that, given their history. So, he sealed the envelope, placed a stamp carefully in the corner, and slipped outside to put it in the mailbox. He hated the plan that was forming more clearly in his mind, hated the circumstances that made such a plan necessary, and once again wished things were different. With a quick salute towards the mailbox, he turned and walked back inside, heart heavy and mind racing as he thought about what needed to be done to set his new plan into action.


	10. Chapter 10

_“Can you imagine a time when the truth ran free?_   
_The birth of a song, the death of a dream_   
_Closer to the edge_   
_This never-ending story_   
_Paid for with pride and fate_   
_We all fall short of glory_   
_Lost in our fate”_

-Thirty Seconds to Mars

_Maggie_

Unrest was palpable in the air, so thick Maggie could almost taste it. She was surprised to see so many people packed into the Butcher’s Block, the bar owned by one of Nick’s many friends. It seemed like there wasn’t a person in the city who didn’t know Nick, and half of them owed him favors. He’d called in one for this meeting, needing a space big enough to hold everyone. The owner, Butch, wasn’t exactly pleased with the arrangement. His bar had live music many nights of the week, so he was concerned with the possible effects of his name being associated with the boycotters. Nick had assured him that there was nothing to worry about.

There were a lot of people Maggie recognized, as she looked around from her vantage point at the bar, where she and Becca had set up camp to stay out of the way. She saw roadies, bartenders, bouncers, and various young people that were often at the same shows she went to with Nick and Becca. Seeing all these people together, it hit Maggie full force how many lives were intertwined, how many would be affected by what would happen next.

Everyone turned their attention toward the stage, where Nick was standing. “Everyone! First, I’d like to thank all y’all for coming,” he said, answering cheers drowning out his voice. “Now, we all know why we are here. Things can’t keep on how they are. A lot of us are low on work--“

“There’d be more work if the owners hadn’t got so greedy!” a voice in the crowd cut him off, with more cheers following.

Nick waited for the crowd to quiet before continuing, “And none of them have shown that they’re willing to compromise. They’re nothing without us! We deserve a say in the way things are done, but do they listen?” 

The crowd answered with a resounding “No,” getting more riled by the minute.

“We must make them listen!” Nick punctuated his statement with a fist in the air. “Soon enough, there will be no shows, no work, and no music. What are we going to do about it?” 

Word had spread, of course, of Nick’s previous diatribe, so this time the crowd knew the answer and were able to take up the chant.

“Boycott!” It rattled the eaves of the bar, and Maggie imagined it reverberating down the street, echoing in between the lines of the skyscrapers, sounding deep into every dive bar and concert hall in the city.

When the crowd finally settled again, Nick picked back up, “This week, Thornton will announce his festival lineup, tickets will go on sale- but no one will buy them!” This worked the crowd into even more of a frenzy, everyone talking over each other. Nick apparently heard something in the clamor that he didn’t like, since he was suddenly whistling for attention. “No! Stop that thinking right there. No violence, no weapons. How can we get respect and recognition if we act like the thugs they think we are?” 

The majority of the crowd seemed to agree, though some seemed more reluctant than others. “Good,” Nick was satisfied with this response. “Friday it is then. Friday, when Excelsior tickets go on sale, that’s when it starts. Let’s make this scene a ghost town! Let the Ghosting begin!” With that, he stepped off the stage and into the crowd waiting to congratulate him on his master plan. 

Maggie and Becca looked at each other, concern mirrored in their eyes, before standing up to wade through the crowd to find Nick. Later, walking back to the sibling’s house, they were all silent, lost in their own thoughts. Maggie’s stomach felt twisted in knots, fearful of the unknown that hung over them. She just hoped Nick knew what he had started, because there seemed to be no going back from here. 

_John_

It stormy all that week, the wind and rain that battered the windows matched the turmoil in John’s mind. Sitting on the couch, staring into space, he thought about the rumors he’d heard over the last few days, stories coming in from every direction about what the boycotters had planned. It was a lot to take in; he was surprised at the cohesion among the group, even somewhat impressed that they were becoming so well organized. He had an idea of who was to blame for that but hadn’t been able to confirm his suspicions so far. 

Tired of these thoughts that were running around his brain, he turned on the TV. Before he could change the channel from the evening news to something more mind-numbing, the reporter caught his attention. “Up next, who are ‘The Ghosts’? Stay tuned for an exclusive interview with the leader of this grassroots boycott movement, Nicholas Higgins, to find out who they are and what it means for you.” As the TV cut to commercial, John slumped back into the couch. That at least answered that question.

Reporters had also been calling all week, but the owners had agreed to keep silent on it for now. They wanted to wait, to be sure that this so-called ‘ghosting’ business wasn’t just the boycotters blowing smoke. John tended to agree, especially since this was one of the only things the owners could come to an agreement on. In everything else, they were at odds, each with their own opinions on how to proceed, and none of them willing to move an inch in their stance. 

He turned off the TV as his mom came in the room. “I guess you’ve heard the news, then,” she said, noting his dejected disposition. “They’re saying it will start Friday.”  
“It’s no more or less than we expected,” he sighed. “But don’t worry too much mom, I’ve got a plan in the works. Let’s see how bad it really is before getting all worked up.”

She seemed surprised at the mention of a plan but should have known that her strong son wouldn’t go down willingly. “What plan is this, then? You haven’t mentioned it before.”

John shook his head, not wanting to give away the details just yet. “I haven’t gotten it fully worked out, but it won’t be easy, or cheap, for that matter.” He smiled at her, patting her hand reassuringly.

Still unconvinced, she decided not to pursue further questioning. “Well, I only wish we weren’t having the party after all, not if this plan of yours is going to cause extra expense.”

“It will be okay, mom. We will keep on as we always have. We Thorntons are fighters, you know,” he said with another sad smile.

She did know. But after years of fighting, she just wanted her son to be able to sit back and let his guard down. Now wasn’t the time to tell him that, so she just nodded. Satisfied, he got up and headed towards the music room, where she knew she would find him later, curled up like the little boy he used to be, one who needed her protection.

_Maggie_

It seemed odd to Maggie to be picking out a fancy dress for a party while the rest of the city seemed in turmoil. The Ghosts had been on the news all week at this point, starting to gain more widespread public support. Even those who formerly had no opinion on such matters were taking sides. Local musicians and businesses alike were coming out of the woodwork, whether for or against the Ghosting. Several high-profile rappers had made statements against the owners, and a few bands that had got their start in the city voiced their disappointment in their fans. So far, there was radio silence from the owners. Maggie wondered what the reasoning behind that could possibly be, hoping John knew what he was doing. 

But her father was determined for them to go to the Thorntons’, and her mother insisted on her looking appropriately dignified. Mrs. Hale was currently attempting to convince Maggie that she should go shopping for a new dress, since she was sure all her old ones were woefully out of style. Dixie rolled her eyes dramatically at the sentiment, backing up Maggie’s protests that she had several timelessly classic items that she thought would work.

So, she carried down a few of her nicest dresses, ones she hadn't needed since leaving Boston, to show her mother and decide what to wear. She rounded the corner, her hands full of the potential outfits, calling to her mother, “I’m sure at least one of these will be perfectly fine for…” She trailed off as she entered the room, seeing that in her absence another person had appeared in the front room. “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize we had company.” 

The stranger gave her a teasing smile. “Oh, Maggie, the last time I saw you, you were just knee-high to a grasshopper, running around and getting into mischief with your brother,” he said, standing up and opening his arms for a hug.

“Mr. Bell! I hadn’t heard you were back in town.” She gave the older man a small hug before stepping back. It had been years since she’d seen her father’s old friend. He lived a rather hectic life, always on the go somewhere; according to her father, he had been abroad for the last few months.

Returning to his seat, Mr. Bell gave Maggie a long, appraising look before saying, “Well, Hale, we always knew she’d be pretty enough, but I’d say she exceeded our expectations!” Maggie felt her cheeks heating in embarrassment at this strange compliment.

Noting his daughter’s discomfort, Mr. Hale stepped in. “Alright, Bell, don’t tease Maggie like that. She’s not used to it.”

With a laugh, Mr. Bell directed his attention back to Maggie. “I’m sorry, love, no offense intended.”

“Of course,” she replied, hoping to push off the awkwardness of the conversation. “We’re glad you’ve finally come to visit.”

A somber look came over Mr. Bell’s face. “Indeed, I cut my travels short when the news of all this business reached me. I thought I ought to come to check on my investments before things get too out of hand, to see if I need to make some changes.”

The thought that the owners could lose investors hadn’t occurred to Maggie. “I’m sure everything will be all right, won’t it? We don’t even know how successful the boycott will even be.”

Mr. Hale shook his head sadly, “I’m afraid their cause is gaining support by the minute, it seems. I’ve had the chance to talk to many people about it- you know, everyone is so friendly down here, willing to tell you their whole life story while standing in line at the supermarket. Their complaints seem valid, especially from the standpoint of those like Maggie’s friends, the ones whose livelihood depends on the industry, and that is just the tip of the iceberg. But when John is here, his counterpoints seem just as valid. It’s not as black and white as either side wants it to seem.” 

“I’m sure Mr. Thornton does makes his side seem very reasonable,” Maggie said with some disdain in her voice. She didn’t like the thought of John discussing this with her father, poisoning his mind against her friends.

Her father ignored her tone, continuing, “I am a bit surprised that the Thorntons are continuing with their party, in the wake of so much unrest.” 

This made Mr. Bell smile. He obviously enjoyed making jokes at other peoples’ expense, and Mrs. Thornton was a prime candidate for that. “The Thorntons have been hosting this annual party for years. Mrs. Thornton would never let something as inconsequential as a social uprising alert her plans. She's a force to be reckoned with.”

“Now that we can agree on,” Maggie said, glad when the conversation turned to more mundane topics. Her mind wandered as her father and his friend chatted. The designated day for the boycott was just on the horizon, and she wondered how any of them were going to make it out unscathed. 

_John_

After tossing and turning all night, John finally got up before the sun rose on Friday morning. There was no use staying in bed when it was obvious sleep wasn’t going to come. It was almost the moment of truth- today the festival lineup would be released across the city. Tickets would go on sale at 10:00 am. The question was, would anyone buy them? He had a bad feeling that things were not going to go in his favor, not today at least. So, he steeled himself, preparing for disappointment.

His mother came into the kitchen not long after, finding him sitting on a barstool and staring into his coffee. They didn’t speak to each other, just wordlessly got ready for the day ahead. John was grateful that his mother would be at the Mill with him to help out, as she was every year. Usually, she was needed to help direct the crowds and workers, answering phone calls when needed and keeping track of sales. He didn’t think those particular skills would be needed today but was glad for her support nonetheless.

At 9:30 they left for the Mill, to open the box office and make sure everything was in order. He was surprised to see Nick and Becca were already there, waiting for him. He honestly hadn’t expected them to come, though they hadn’t spoken about it. Really, they hadn’t spoken much at all recently; John had assumed they both wanted to avoid a confrontation, though one seemed likely now. Nick’s face had a hard set to it, like he was preparing for battle.

In contrast, Becca smiled sadly at her boss, saying quietly, “Good morning, John, Mrs. Thornton.” The older lady gave only a curt nod in response.

“I didn’t think y’all would be here,” he said to the siblings, as he unlocked the box office door. Looking around, he began to understand why, exactly, they were there. A few news vans had arrived and were setting up. _Of course_ , he thought bitterly, _let’s make it as big a spectacle as possible_. He wondered what Nick had up his sleeve to make a bigger scene. Neither of the siblings thought it necessary to answer his question since it seemed he had come to his own conclusions.

With a sigh, John shook his head. “Well, let’s get on with it, then,” he said before walking into the Mill. Let them have their spectacle. There was no use fighting about it now. 

Finally, the clock struck 10. It seemed like everyone was holding their breath to see what would happen. Of course, nothing really happened. That was the problem. No one approached the box office, no one called. There were a few online sales, but nothing compared to the usual volume. At one point, someone on the sidewalk seemed to want to come up the driveway but changed their mind when they saw the news vans.

This went on for a while until Nick broke the silence they’d all been preserving. “Well, I think me and Becks will be heading on then.” He at least had the decency to seem a little bit sorry. Just not sorry enough to make a different decision.

John gave them both a long look before replying. “You know what it means if you leave now, don’t you?” He thought about the years they’d worked together but wondered how much he actually knew about either of them. It was amazing, you could see someone almost every day, and not really know who they are, what sort of things they cared about.

“Yes, sir, we do.” Nick’s face said far more than his words. It’s nothing personal, his eyes said, I wish it didn’t have to be like this. John understood, in some way, that this had grown far out of Nick’s control, even though he was the match that lit the fire. He knew it wasn’t Nick’s fault. If it hadn’t been him, it would be someone else. But that didn’t take the sting out of his actions.

Before they left, Becca turned to her boss with tear-rimmed eyes. “I’m really sorry, John.” Then they were gone, exciting the news crews with their exit. John wasn’t surprised to see his own face on the news that night, the bold letters of the headline proclaiming ominously: **The ghosting has begun.**


	11. Chapter 11

_“Your name is on everything you do, well, so is mine_   
_Your life made a turn for you and gave you time_   
_And through your uneven footsteps you found tolerance and cleanliness_   
_And I found you_   
_Your name appears at such an alarming rate in this town I can't escape it_   
_(I'm sure you agree with that statement)”_

-PlayRadioPlay!

_Maggie_

The news demanded her attention all morning. She’d slept little, concerns about the city she’d come to appreciate running around her mind. After finally pulling herself out of bed, exhausted, she decided to try to distract herself by replying to her cousin’s latest email. Grabbing her laptop, she left her room in search of coffee before settling on the couch in front of the TV. She absentmindedly re-read Eden’s email before attempting a response.

_I’m sorry I haven’t replied sooner, things have just been a little busy here. Sholto looks like he’s growing up to be a gorgeous dog! I can’t wait to meet him when I’m able to visit next. I miss you all. I wish I could find the words to describe what has been going on down here, but maybe you’ll have seen it on the news. It seems we’ve garnered national attention at this point._

She paused, hearing the newscaster mention The Mill and the festival. They then moved on to discussing the Ghosts and their boycott. That’s where she spent the rest of the morning, watching updates on the Ghosting, before they changed feeds and she saw Becca and Nick walk out of the box office. Becca looked upset, and Nick stoic as usual. He didn’t stop to answer the reporters’ questions, for which Maggie found herself oddly grateful. She was afraid of what he would say.

Standing up, she decided to go see Nick and Becca, more for her own reassurance than to provide any comfort to them. Sitting around, watching from afar made her feel so useless. Walking into their apartment, she saw she wasn’t the only one that had decided to visit. Butch, Nick’s friend the bar owner, was there as well. 

“You said there would be no repercussions!” Butch slammed his hands on the table in front of Nick, who was already looking angry. “It hasn’t even been a week and already my bar has been blacklisted for being involved. I told you I wanted no part in your games, Higgins.”

Regretting her decision to visit her friend, Maggie slipped quietly over to where Becca was huddled on the couch, her eyes already red from crying. Nick stood up, toe to toe with Butch but a head taller. “Well it’s too late for that, ain’t it? You're in this as much as anyone, and you’d have to take sides eventually. Or are you more upset that you were forced to choose our side over the owners?”

Nick’s words struck a nerve, making the smaller man scowl in response. “I’ve got a family to take care of, I can’t afford to be taking sides,” he stepped back, dropping back into his chair at the table. Nick sat back down as well, most of the anger gone from his face. “You know my wife’s sick, don’t you?” Butch continued, speaking more softly now. “The stress of all this seems like too much for her. How long will it last?” 

This obviously tugged at Nick’s heartstrings, taking all signs of the previous bravado out of his expression. “Listen, I’ll put the word out, maybe we can pull together and make up for the loss. At least until we see this thing through.” Maggie wondered to herself if that would be enough since the lost patrons associated with the owners surely spent more money at the bar than a group of poor boycotters would. Judging by the look on Butch’s face, he was thinking the same thing but didn’t voice his opinion. Instead, he stood up, deciding that there was no point in continuing the conversation at that moment.

Once he was gone, Nick sighed and ran his hands through his hair in frustration. “I'm glad you're here, Maggie, Becca’s been bawling her eyes out ever since we got home.”

Indignant, Becca quickly wiped the tears from her eyes before saying, “So what if I have? This has been hard on all of us. Just look at poor Butch. He doesn't have the drive and spirit you do, and yet he's as tied up in this as much as anyone else.”

“I told him we’d help him out, didn’t I?” Nick responded, perhaps with a bit more anger than he’d intended. “I’m sorry, Becks. It’s been an intense day for all of us.” 

Maggie decided to say something that she’d been thinking about for a while. “Won’t boycotting just make the problem worse, though?” She asked Nick, trying to be tactful in her questioning. 

Curious, Nick turned his attention toward Maggie. “What do you mean?” He asked with some suspicion in his voice as if he had an idea where her thoughts were headed. 

Taking a deep breath, she continued, “Well, if part of the problem is that fewer bands are coming to the city because fewer people are able to go to concerts due to price, will having even lower tickets sales not make bands more likely to skip us completely?” 

She could see that Nick took immediate offense to her words. “Maybe they shouldn’t have gotten greedy in the first place with their exorbitant ticket prices, then we’d never be in this mess.” He leaned back in his chair, daring Maggie to contradict him.

“But what if it wasn’t greed? Maybe they needed to raise prices to cover their own overhead expenses. And now the situation has escalated far past that point, so eventually, there won’t be any shows or venues in the city at all.” The instant the words left her mouth she could see Nick’s temper flaring.

Nick slammed his fist on the table with a resounding thump. “What do you know, anyway? You don’t even belong down here, with all your big northern ideals and opinions. Things are different here, and you obviously don’t understand them, just like any damned Yankee.”

Startled at his vehemence, Maggie thought to backtrack a bit, saying, “You’re right, things are very different here. But I’m sure the owners didn’t raise prices purely out of a desire for more profits.” 

“I don’t care about their reasons! They can go to hell, all of them. Slickson, Hamper, even Thornton. Screw them!” He responded bitterly. 

Before Nick quickly looked away, Maggie thought she saw a sadness in his expression that didn’t match the intensity in his voice. “You don’t really mean that about John, do you?” 

Nick looked back up at her, resignation finally overtaking his anger. “He’s ornery, that’s for sure. Like a mule. That’s where we’re alike, I suppose.”

“He’s cuter than a mule, that’s for sure,” Maggie joked, hoping to lighten the mood some. She was rewarded with a small smile from Becca, who had been looking more and more downtrodden as the conversation continued. Usually, she would tease Maggie about a statement like that; it worried Maggie that she let such an opportunity pass by.

With a shake of his head, Nick stood up and grabbed his keys. “He won’t go down without a fight, I know that much. Listen, I don’t want to argue about this anymore. I’ll see y’all later.” He closed the door quietly behind him, leaving the girls frowning after him. 

_John_

To say he was stressed would be an enormous understatement. The last few days had been absolute hell. His mother was doubly stressed, making final preparations for the dinner while also worrying about the boycott. Their phone had been ringing off the hook; promoters, investors, and reporters all wanting John's thoughts and opinions on the situation. To top it off, he still hadn’t heard from Williams- not that he’d expected to, Williams was the type to just show up unannounced. 

At least The Mill looked in tip-top shape. He’d swung by earlier in the day to check on the preparations. Of course, there were reporters skulking about, all wanting something from him. He just prayed Williams would come through, help him put his plan into action, and all this would be over soon. Sighing, he finished getting ready for the party, a quick glance in the mirror showing that his appearance was in order. 

It wasn’t often that he got the opportunity to wear his tux, but when he did, it made him feel a bit like James Bond. Those rare occasions were some of the only times that he felt truly dashing, and this night was no different. Cleanly shaven and hair perfectly coifed, he gave his reflection a small nod before heading out the door. As awful as the week had been so far, his heart gave a small thrill at the thought of seeing Maggie. It felt like years since their paths had crossed, though he was subconsciously on the lookout for her whenever there was a chance they might meet. 

Once at The Mill, he was glad to see that everything seemed to be in order. He’d been half worried the Ghosts would cause some kind of scene, but so far everything was quiet. His mom had outdone herself with the decorations, transforming the main hall room into an exquisite yet understated dining area. John knew The Mill itself was a bit rough around the edges- that was part of the appeal, under normal circumstances. But his mother never ceased to amaze him with her ability to polish the space into something spectacular.

Mrs. Thornton herself was the picture of elegance and grace. Never one to dress extravagantly, her aura came more from the way she carried herself than from her attire. Faith, too, looked abnormally lovely in her new gown, which she had insisted was a necessity. It certainly wouldn’t do for her to be seen in last years fashion; what kind of message would that send?

Before long, guests started to arrive, and the family was occupied with greeting and mingling with their peers. The turnout was better than expected; John supposed he wasn’t the only one who needed some distraction from the current state of affairs. Everyone was dressed to the nines, smiles plastered on their faces as they silently agreed to pretend nothing was wrong for a little while.

He was making small talk with a local celebrity chef when he spotted Maggie and her father come in the door. Suddenly everyone seemed to be moving in slow motion. John was vaguely aware of his rudeness as he abruptly cut off his current conversation, but when the chef saw what had caught his host’s attention, he couldn’t help but smile. He wouldn’t fault the young man for being distracted by such a dashing beauty.

It was as if his legs moved without his direction, and before John knew what was happening he was making his way through the crowd towards the Hales. He was pleased to see his mother and sister greeting them with warmth and hospitality, though he should have known they would never shirk their duties on such an important occasion. Faith was looking enviously at Maggie’s gown, which was a deep green color that set off her porcelain skin perfectly. 

Unfortunately, before he could reach the Hales and his family, his attention was caught by Mr. Bell. John wasn’t so far gone that he would just ignore his mentor and biggest investor. “Bell, I didn’t think you’d be back in town in time for the dinner,” John asked in surprise since the man himself had told him not to expect his attendance. 

“Well, you know how it goes, Thornton. I thought it best to come on back and check up on things.” The object of John’s attention hadn’t escaped the older man’s notice, and he was eyeing his young friend intently.

Feeling the intensity of Bell’s discerning gaze, John colored a little a cleared his throat. “I hate that you cut your trip short, then. I assure we have everything under control here,” he said, hoping to sound more confident than he felt. Mr. Latimer, his banker, who was standing nearby, overheard his comments and snorted. John decided to ignore his derision and continue his mission of more pleasant pursuits. 

Mr. Bell had a different plan in mind. “Oh no, my boy, no doubt.” He turned to include Mr. Latimer and his daughter in the conversation. “John knows I have complete confidence in him, don’t you, John? Lord knows you’ve shown your capabilities time and time again. You’ve met Mr. Latimer’s daughter, Annie, haven’t you?”

It took great effort for John to push down his impatience, but he smiled smoothly at Annie, shaking her hand politely at their reintroduction. He’d met her some years before, as she was one of Faith’s many school friends. He’d always found her a bit mousy, though he supposed she’d turned out to be an alright looking girl. Her hand was cold and frail feeling, though, missing the warmth he’d felt from Maggie’s handshake. 

Maggie. He could sense that she was still nearby, prompting him to glance around a moment before their eyes locked. She smiled at him, catching him off guard with the open friendly expression on her face. With a quick word of excuse to Mr. Bell and the Latimers, John continued his journey towards the Hales. Maggie instantly extended her hand to him, still smiling warmly as she clasped his much larger hand in both of hers. 

“We really appreciated the hospitality y’all have shown,” she said, a twinkle in her eye as she still held his hand in hers. “See, John, I’m starting to get used to your southern ways.” He could tell by her tone and expression that she was teasing him, as someone might tease a friend. There was none of the malice he had felt the last time she made such a comment, thought the words themselves were similar enough.

Her presence and demeanor were making him suddenly light-headed, and he struggled for something to say before the moment was lost. It wouldn’t do to just stand there smiling like a fool. “I’m sorry your mother wasn’t well enough to come,” he said, squeezing her hands before letting them go. She seemed to realize she’d held on a few moments too long, and she blushed slightly, nodding with a small, sad smile.

It seemed as if she were about to say something further but was interrupted by a man tapping on John’s shoulder. He turned, irritated at the interruption, but his ire was instantly transformed when he saw who was standing behind him. “Williams! I knew you would make it!” He grinned, shaking his old friend’s hand before pulling him into a hug. It was a relief to see the burly, bearded man in the flesh after only seeing him on TV and magazine covers for the last year or so.

“Oof, Thornton, I’m daintier than I look. Let a man breathe, won’t ya?” Some things never changed; he’d always had the worst timing. John took a step back and looked at the serious expression on his friend’s face. “Now, what’s with this mess? You’ve been all over the news, John. How could I not rush over here when I got your message?”

With a small sigh, John looked over at Maggie, who was standing to the side watching their interaction with curiosity. He gave her an apologetic smile before turning back towards Williams. “Come on, we have a few minutes before dinner is served. Let’s talk in my study.” He could feel Maggie’s questioning gaze on his back as he led the other man away. Bad timing, for sure.

_Maggie_

It was very kind of Becca to help her get ready. Maggie wasn’t sure her friend would still be up for it, after the events of the past few days. It had to be painful, helping her get ready for a party she would normally be attending herself. She had told Maggie that John always made sure to invite important members of his staff, a list which included Becca and Nick. Maggie could see the sadness lingering in the other girl’s eyes as she fixed her curls that afternoon. The boycott was taking a heavy toll on Becca, both mentally and physically. 

Becca made short work of Maggie’s difficult hair, fingers skillfully twirling and pinning until every lock was up in an intricate design, making Maggie feel like royalty. “Man, I wish you could do my hair every day! This is amazing. You have real talent, Becca.”

Shaking her head, Becca smiled sadly. “I’m just glad you’re getting to go. The Thorntons’ parties are always a fun time. You’ll have to be sure to tell me all about it- who is there, what they were wearing. Everything.” 

Maggie stood up and gave her friend a hug. “I’m so sorry. I can’t imagine how hard this is for you.” She felt tears of sympathy welling up in her eyes, threatening to ruin the hard work Becca had put into her makeup. 

“Oh, stop it. Your mascara will run. Come on, it’s alright. I didn’t have anything to wear, anyway.” With that, she picked up Maggie’s gown and handed it to her. “Get dressed so I can see the full effect before I leave.”

Happy to oblige, Maggie finished getting ready and did a twirl. “Satisfied, fairy godmother? Think I’ll pass as a princess until the clock strikes midnight?” Her antics earned a smile from Becca, who gave her approval of the final product. Maggie had to admit, looking in the full-length mirror on the back of her door, she did look nicer than usual. Surely not as nice as some of the elite ladies who would be attending the party, but overall, she was happy with her appearance.

Before long, it was almost time for Maggie and her father to leave, so she regretfully said goodbye to her mother and friend, both of whom she wished could attend the party as well. There was some odd anxiety building up inside her, a feeling like butterflies making her heart flutter. Maggie wondered what the cause of that could be- she chalked it up to the general stress of the week. 

When they arrived at The Mill, both Maggie and her father were amazed at its transformation. The top room was almost unrecognizable, decked out in all its glory. Everyone there was attired in a similar fashion. No one wanted to be underdressed at such a soiree. Maggie subconsciously looked around for John, spying him on the other side of the room, thoroughly engaged in conversation. He looked especially handsome in his tux, standing tall and playing the picture-perfect host. She wasn’t sure if he’d noticed her yet and was intercepted by Mrs. Thornton and Faith before she could catch his eye.

The Thornton ladies also looked lovely as they greeted Maggie and her father warmly. She was glad for it; she’d been worried that there would be some animosity towards her due to her friendship with the Higgins. “I’m sorry your mom wasn’t feeling well enough to join you,” Faith said after greeting them.

“Thank you, I’m sure the peace and quiet will have her feeling better in no time,” Maggie lied, not wanting to really discuss her mother’s illness at the moment. She wanted to just enjoy herself for the night, to not have to worry about all the things that have been weighing on her mind.

Faith seemed to understand and gave her a kind smile. “Well, I wonder if enjoy these essentials oils I’ve been using. You just put them in a diffuser and they’re very relaxing. Maybe they might help her… rest.” She looked a little unsure, thinking it was a small offering to someone who seemed so ill. 

Though it wasn’t much, Maggie really appreciated the concern Faith had shown. “Thank you, that does sound like something she might like.” She was about to say more, but John caught her attention as he moved across the room. He seemed to be making his way towards them but was stopped by Mr. Bell. She couldn’t be too upset; this gave her a perfect opportunity to observe him from afar.

Her initial impression was certainly correct- he looked incredibly handsome. In his tuxedo, he seemed every bit as dashing as a foreign spy in a movie, dark and mysterious. She was glad to see him smiling, though it didn’t always reach his eyes, and there were lines between his brows that she hadn’t noticed before. The stress of this mess was taking a visible toll on him, making Maggie wonder if he was getting enough sleep and eating properly. 

_What an odd thought_ , she caught herself, _how is any of that my business? It’s not my responsibility to worry about him like that_. And yet, she couldn’t help but be concerned about him. Surely, even someone as powerful and competent as he was needed someone to take care of them. It was in that moment that John looked up and caught her eye, smiling sweetly. She was quick to smile back, glad when he started back towards their group.

The urge to clasp his hand in hers was too strong to ignore, stemming from some deep-seated desire to erase the memory of their previous encounter. His hand was warm and strong, sending a tingling sensation shooting through her fingertips. She wasn’t entirely aware of what words she said but could tell they pleased him. There was an acute sense of loss in her heart when he released his hold on her hand, and embarrassment rushed through her.

Ever the gallant host, John moved the conversation forward, covering over her embarrassing display. She was grateful and would have continued talking to him like a normal person had they not been interrupted by the bear of a man that snuck up behind John. She could see the flash of irritation on his face at the disturbance, soon replaced by a pure, boyish grin. 

Who was this strange man, who was able to change John’s mood in an instant? Maggie felt strangely jealous. That feeling was intensified when he led John away, leaving her wondering what sort of secret conversation they were going to have. Of course, it was none of her business, but she was acutely aware of John’s absence from the room until they returned, still laughing and joking with each other like the best of friends.


	12. Chapter 12

_“I am the last of my kind_   
_Just a Yank in southern battlefields_   
_Behind enemy lines_   
_And alone to find out how I wound up here_   
_Every mistake, a reason to run_   
_But a good soldier marches on_   
_Knowing the worst may be still yet to come”_

-Bayside

_John_

There was silence in John’s office while his friend contemplated the series of events as they were spelled out for him. It was both a long saga and a short tale. John felt like he’d aged years since it all began, but in reality, it had only been a few months. Williams stared into his glass of scotch for a moment- there was always scotch involved when he and Thornton got together. “So, what’s your plan, then? I know you have a plan, you always do,” he said, finally breaking the stillness in the air. He was right, John was a planner. Growing up, he always had something new up his sleeve, some grand idea that was going to help them make it big, the two of them together.

Bracing himself with a burning gulp of scotch, John started to lay out his plan. He hadn’t talked about it with anyone, yet. Often, the first time he told someone about his big ideas, they sounded ridiculous. This one, in particular, sounded downright insane.

“You’ve lost your mind, Thornton.” Williams wasn’t one to hold back his opinions, which is part of the reason he and John got along so well. He had always been there to keep him in check, talk him back from the edge of insanity, his internal voice of reason. Well, almost always. There were a few glaring exceptions, the moments that had shaped John’s life, changing him irrevocably. That wasn’t what he wanted to be thinking about right now; there were much more important things at stake.

John ran a frustrated hand through his carefully styled hair, ruffling it beyond repair. “I know. I feel like it, too. But this is my only chance, I think. Can’t you see I’m past desperate, Andy?” His friend knew he was serious, pulling at his heartstrings. Williams didn’t like to see him like this, the normally composed and stoic John Thornton with cracks in his armor. Just as John didn’t like to let his guard down- but if there was anyone he could trust, it would be Williams. 

It was almost time for dinner to be served, but John didn’t want to leave his office without an answer. They were locked in a stalemate; both knew who would win. One of them was far more stubborn than the other. “Oh alright! I guess there can’t be any harm in it, at least,” Williams finally gave in. “Just tell me what you need me to do. I’ll talk to the band about it when we regroup in a few days. They all took off to visit their own families.” The words weren’t spoken but the thought was there- they were family, the two of them. Williams would do this for John, if only to make up for the times he wasn’t there. He carried a lot of guilt in that regard, and if he could help pull his friend out of this mess, it would help lighten that load.

Grinning, John slapped the other man on the back. “This is going to work, don’t worry.” Williams had his doubts but was glad that John at least seemed sure of himself. Then again, he usually did, even if he was a nervous wreck inside. With this part of his plan settled, John looked a little more relaxed, though there was a different undercurrent of anxiety running through him. 

When you know someone their whole life, it’s easy to pick up on the subtle signs that something is amiss. Their friendship was no different, and as they left the office, Williams was able to pick at the exact thread of his friend’s current apprehension. “So, who was that girl you were talking to before you were so rudely interrupted? She was a stunner.” John wasn’t sure why he was surprised- of course, he would notice. But he didn’t like the implication in Williams’ voice, whether it was because he was being teased or if he was worried that the other man would be interested in Maggie. Or the thought that Maggie might find herself interested in him. Thankfully, they were interrupted by some guests mingling in the hall, and John was able to avoid the question for the moment.

_Maggie_

She was pulled from her brooding contemplation by the appearance of Mr. Bell. “Well, Maggie, I see Thornton has abandoned you to your own devices in favor of company far less charming. A poor choice, I’m sure. You’re much more beautiful than the Williams boy, though the beard does suit him.” Maggie blushed a bit at this odd compliment, noting as John glanced back at her one last time before leaving the room.

Always observant, Mr. Bell saw this interaction with a sly smile. “No matter, my dear, let me introduce you to the best and brightest that Atlanta has to offer.” He led her away to be paraded around, meeting a wide assortment of celebrities and industry insiders. She had never realized how well-connected John actually was. Figuring the mystery man must be someone of consequence, she wracked her brain to remember who he could be. There were scores of famous people from the city, but something about him had seemed familiar.

Time felt like it was dragging by as she waited for dinner to be served and the two men to return. Finally, Mrs. Thornton announced it was time, and everyone took their assigned seats. John and his friend slipped in just as everyone else was sitting down. Maggie saw the concerned look that Mrs. Thornton sent her son- obviously, his absence had not escaped her notice. But she visibly relaxed when she saw who was with John.

The tables were arranged in several large rows, with seats carefully assigned to provide a good mix of company. Maggie was surprised to find her, and her father seated at the same table as the Thorntons’, though separated by a few people. She considered this to be a testament to the high esteem John felt for her father. It warmed her heart to know that he truly enjoyed the older man’s company.

Before she could reach to pull out her own chair, someone nearby reached over to pull it out for her. A strange formality that she wasn’t used to in the north, she looked up to see who it was that was so overly polite. She wasn’t entirely surprised to see the bearded man, smiling at her as he gestured for her to sit. “I don’t believe we were properly introduced earlier. My name is Andy.” Maggie accepted his offered hand and sat down after introducing herself. Andy Williams. The name, the face, the voice. All together it finally clicked. He was the lead singer of a very prominent band that had made it big several years past. She had actually forgotten that they were even from the area, but now it all made sense.

Williams went and took his seat next to John, who had been watching their interaction with an unreadable expression. Once seated, he leaned over to John and whispered something, making the other man frown. Williams grinned at the reaction, which made John's frown deepen. Maggie wondered what they were whispering about.  
John  
They managed to slip back into the upstairs room just as everyone else was settling into their seats. John noted with pleasure that his mom had fulfilled his request for the Hales to be seated at their table, though she hadn’t been thrilled with the idea. She also wasn’t happy with his decision to set aside a seat for Williams; she hadn’t thought he would come at all. Mrs. Thornton had never been overly fond of their friendship, thinking Williams a bad influence on her son.

As John sat down, he noticed that Williams was no longer next to him. He could easily guess where the other man would be; with a quick glance around he spotted him, pulling out Maggie’s chair for her with a smile. Of course, he couldn’t resist inserting himself into the situation, though John had warned him to back off. Maggie herself looked startled, and perhaps a little embarrassed, but graciously accepted the offering and Williams’ introduction.

Sliding quickly into his seat next to John, Williams leaned over. “A yankee, hm? I’d have never guessed you’d fall for a northerner, Johnny boy.” John wasn’t in the mood for his teasing and made that clear with a dour expression. This only spurred Williams on, his conniving grin leaving no hope that this was the last John would hear on the subject.

Before long dinner was served and the wine and conversation flowed freely. Everyone was chatting comfortably, having a pleasant time, when Mr. Bell decided to stir things up. “I heard Arnold is packing up and moving back to England,” he said casually, glancing around to gauge the reactions of his dinner partners.

“England, huh? Guess the man couldn't handle a little civil unrest.” Watson seemed surprised by the revelation, if not a little miffed that he wasn't already aware of the gossip. It seemed Mr. Bell was always the first to know about such things.

Slickson gave an irritated grunt. “Can't say I blame him. I have half a mind to leave myself if there was anywhere to go. What would the so-called Ghosts have to say about that? There'd be no music scene left, that's for sure.”

Raising his eyebrows a bit, Mr. Bell took a small sip of his wine. “Well, there doesn't seem to be much of one at the moment, either.” John thought he knew what he was doing, poking the bear to get a reaction.

It obviously worked, since Slickson slammed his hand onto the table angrily. “There is one, it's their own foolishness that it the problem.” 

“Alright,” John said, deciding it was in everyone’s best interest to step in. “I think Mr. Bell is just yanking our chain, gaining amusement at our expense.” He smiled to soften the harsh words, and Mr. Bell’s expression showed he took no offense. “But it is an interesting thought,” He continued. “I have no desire to move away, but I understand if others think they need to in order to make a better profit.” 

He hoped that would be the end of the conversation, but Faith decided to add fuel to the fire. John wanted to throttle her for the self-righteous tone she used when speaking to Maggie, asking what she thought about the boycotters. He got the impression that Faith had something to use against the other girl but couldn’t for the life of him guess what it was. They wouldn’t have to wait long for the grand reveal, though.

_Maggie_

The food was very good, the classic southern fare that she had grown accustomed to since the big move. Mrs. Thornton certainly knew how to throw a dinner. Everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves; the wine didn’t hurt on that front, either. Regardless, Maggie was glad that they had been invited, as she was having a much better time than anticipated. She noted with pleasure that her father also looked like he was having a very nice evening, clearly enjoying the conversation of people with whom he wouldn’t associate with otherwise.

Of course, Mr. Bell couldn’t pass up the opportunity to provide for his own entertainment. She’d heard enough stories about him from her father to be wary of his intentions. Maggie secretly agreed with John’s assessment of the man, that he was trying to rile up the crowd. She was also oddly comforted by his resolution to stay in Atlanta, though she wasn’t sure why. 

Faith had been mostly quiet during the heated conversation, which Maggie had taken as a sign that she wasn't interested in the subject. She spoke up now, though, startling Maggie. “What about you, Maggie? Do you think the boycotters are doing the right thing?” 

She didn't like being singled out in a crowd and was caught off guard by the direct nature of the question. But everyone was looking at her now, waiting for an answer. “Well, no. I mean… not exactly. Though I think it's important to look at both sides of the situation, too see where they're coming from.” She noticed John smile a bit at her diplomatic response.

The other girl didn't seem to appreciate it quite so much. “Hm, interesting. I do think Mrs. Arthur said she's seen you several times at that awful bar, the Butcher’s Block. She lives near there, you know.” Faith was satisfied with the looks of suspicion some of the men were giving Maggie with the revelation of this information. 

Their condescending looks bothered her. “One of my good friends, Becca Higgins, knows the owner,” Maggie replied, mad that she felt the need to defend herself to these people whom she owed no explanation.

“Higgins, huh?” Watson cut in, “Isn’t that the name of your man, Thornton? The one who helped start this whole mess?”

Several men around the table nodded, and Hamper spoke up before John could answer. “I think we are all fairly familiar with Higgins. He’s a dangerous man, always up to no good in one way or another.” Maggie thought she saw a flicker of irritation cross John’s face at this description of Nick.

Mrs. Thornton chose this moment to add her thoughts to the conversation. “I’m surprised you choose to keep such company, Maggie,” she said, voice dripping with apparent contempt for the Higgins.

“Becca and Nick are my friends…” she started to explain, hoping to diffuse the situation a bit. 

Her words grated on some of the men at the table. “Oh, the boycotters are your friends, are they?” Hamper cut her off with a sneer. 

Frustrated at the looks of open contempt she was receiving from her dinner mates, Maggie took a deep breath before replying. “The Higgins are my friends,” she said firmly, “They go to the bar to support the owner because their friend has been having a hard time with business lately. I think this whole debacle has made everyone a little crazy. Nick is only doing what he feels is right, with the resources he has.” Having said her piece, she sat back, waiting for the rebuttal she was sure would be coming.

“If he’s so sure he’s right, I’m surprised he accepts help from someone like you, who associates with the people he is fighting so hard against.” Hamper’s tone was more curious than accusatory, as if he couldn’t figure out where Maggie stood on the social ladder. 

She was glad that the man seemed somewhat open to civil conversation, so she decided it was okay to explain further. “The help isn’t for him. His friend has a family, his wife is sick, and the bar is their only means of income. Everyone is pulling together to help them out during this difficult time.”

The table was quiet for a moment while Hamper contemplated this. He seemed satisfied with her answer, but still responded, “Well, I guess he shouldn’t have gotten wrapped up in this mess in the first place.” The others at the table readily agreed with this sentiment. Maggie hoped at least some of what she said made an impact on the men, but seriously doubted it did.

_John_

It was obvious that Maggie wasn’t comfortable with the attention that was suddenly bestowed upon her, but John was proud of her calmness in answering. If only Faith showed even half the amount of decorum that Maggie had. Instead, she dug in deeper, making John cringe inwardly at her words. The reactions of his colleagues were also something of a disappointment- they seemed willing to crucify the girl just for saying she was friends with a boycotter.

He felt torn while they discussed Nick and his actions. On one hand, he knew he was dangerous to their business, the perfect storm of grand ideas and charisma. But John also thought highly of the man; he couldn’t hold such a negative opinion of someone who had been reliable through many tough situations at The Mill. He hadn’t known Nick was friends with the owner of the Butcher’s Block until recently and was surprised to learn that Maggie had visited the place more than once. It wasn’t an establishment that he felt was entirely appropriate for a young woman to be hanging around, though he figured if she was with Nick she would be safe enough.

Maggie was right about one thing; this whole situation had made everyone go a bit mad. John felt a little crazy himself, listening to the others discuss the nuances of the boycott and the effects it was having on people in the community. Thankfully, the tone was more civil than it had been, and John appreciated Maggie’s calm and even answers under the pressure that Faith had put on her. 

There was someone who thought things were going too swimmingly, however. “Thornton, isn’t that the bar you and Williams used to sneak into as teenagers?” Mr. Bell said offhandedly, knowing that it was. He was the one who had caught the boys with their fake IDs. That’s how John knew it wasn’t the most wholesome place in the city. Never mind that he still enjoyed going there to scope out talent and get to know some of the up and coming bands. He’d been gutted when he heard of the owner’s involvement with the boycotters. 

In the awkward silence that followed Mr. Bells question, John was bombarded with memories of his teenage years. He shouldn’t be surprised that the Ghosts had chosen it as their unofficial headquarters; it certainly held plenty of his own ghosts. That’s where Williams had formed his band, where they had played there first show, where the talent scout had discovered them, much like John would do years later. He didn’t like the path his thoughts were taking. Why did Mr. Bell have to mention it at all? Damned man.

He was suddenly aware that everyone was waiting for him to say something. “Supporting the boycotters does more harm than good,” he said, looking at Maggie. She seemed surprised at his irritated tone. He hadn’t meant for his words to come out so harshly and tried to reign in his anger, since it wasn’t directed at her. “The more support they get, the longer it will go on. The boycott must end eventually. Prolonging it is no kindness to anyone, as there is only one outcome. They will lose. It’s only a matter of when.” The confidence in his voice belied the uncertainty he felt, but it was good to put on a good front for his current audience.

As he spoke, he could practically feel the heat from the fire in Maggie’s eyes. Of course, his words would provoke her righteous anger. John only wished there weren’t so many witnesses to this conversation; he couldn’t openly express himself in the present company. Whether he thought she was right or wrong, he couldn’t show any sign of weakness or uncertainty.

“You can’t possibly think there’s anything wrong with helping out someone whose wife is seriously ill, who has small children to take care of. It’s not about the boycott, but about showing some compassion!” Maggie’s voice was full of emotion, though she was doing a commendable job holding back the full force of her displeasure. John was thankful for it, having been on the receiving end of her censure enough to know it was not a spectacle he wanted to be witnessed by everyone at the table.

Mr. Hale seemed of a similar mind since he tried to change the subject. “Dinner has been very delicious,” he said, turning towards Mrs. Thornton. “I don’t know that I’ve ever seen such lovely place settings, even in the finest restaurants in Boston.” The old man was obviously grasping, and no one took the bait. Instead, they turned their attention back to John, to see how he would respond.

Closing his eyes briefly to gather his thoughts, John directed his next words back to Mr. Bell. “You don’t give us owners enough credit, Bell. We’re not all the same, don’t always have some trick up our sleeves. Most of us just want this business to be over so we can go on with our lives.” The rest of the table lost interest when they realized John wasn’t going to continue fighting with the headstrong young northerner. John himself turned pointedly away from Maggie, unwilling to look back in her direction, afraid of the disdain he’d see in her expression.


	13. Chapter 13

_“The empire will fall like they planned on_

_Can we even last through the night_

_We watch as the skyscrapers crumble_

_Under the burning blue sky,_

_That blinds our eyes!”_

-Scary Kids Scaring Kids

_Maggie_

_Insufferable man_. Just when she thought they were making headway, doing better about understanding each other, he said something so disagreeable that she couldn’t help but hate him a little bit. How could he talk about his friends like that? Did he really hold so much contempt for the Higgins, who had been by his side for so long? She didn’t want to believe it, knowing how much this whole situation had hurt Nick and Becca. And his sister! Faith was in fine form that night, exceeding Maggie’s expectations for pretentiousness. Maggie thought her not unlike Mr. Bell in that regard, always using someone else’s discomfort for their own amusement or gain.

She felt slighted by John’s pointed cut, sure no one else had failed to notice it, either. He had hardly glanced in her direction the rest of the evening, though Maggie’s attention was often drawn towards him. He commanded attention, his charismatic speech and animated expressions often held court during the dinner. As she watched him, she was struck again with how handsome he looked. There was an indescribable quality that he held, a mixture of power and confidence in the way he carried himself. Yet, he was never fully at ease. That was obvious; any small disturbance in the room was instantly noticed, eyes ever roving over the group to assure everyone’s comfort and enjoyment. 

It was obvious that her father wasn’t pleased with the tone of the dinner, though he didn’t say anything directly. They were largely silent on the trip home, each lost in their own thoughts. Mr. Hale wandered off towards the music room as soon as they arrived, while Maggie stepped into the kitchen for a glass of water. She stumbled upon Dixie, hurriedly putting away pill bottles into a small lock box.

“What are those?” Maggie asked, grabbing one still on the counter in front of Dixie. She read the label, a medication she wasn’t familiar with, but it was her mother’s name on the bottle. “What are these for?”

Dixie looked suspicious and shrugged a little. “Oh, just some medicines.” She grabbed the last bottle from Maggie and put it in the box, locking it and cradling it under her arm before turning to go.

Her retreat was blocked by Maggie, who wasn’t at all satisfied with her vague answer. “What kind of medication? Why do you have them hidden away in a box?” She folded her arms, apparently determined for an answer.

“They’re just her usual nighttime medicines, the ones the Emory doctor prescribed.” Maggie hadn’t known she had even seen an Emory doctor yet, much less been prescribed a box full of medication. Dixie could see the confusion and concern in the younger girl’s eyes as the implication of this settled in. She resigned herself to tell Maggie the truth about her mother, though her old friend had asked her not to. It wasn’t something that Maria would be able to talk to her daughter openly about. Neither Dixie nor Maria had wanted to worry the family needlessly, but she could see that the time for that was passed.

After the events of the night, Maggie was not prepared for the revelations that Dixie hoisted upon her. How could she have been so blind to her own mother’s condition? She should have been more alert, more helpful. They shouldn’t have endeavored to hide it from her in the first place. She thought to scold Dixie for this but was overcome with the desire to be near her mother, the realization that time in her presence was limited weighing heavily upon her. 

_John_

The guests were gone, The Mill was set to rights, and John sat in his office contemplating the successes and failures of the night. His body was exhausted, but his mind was running at double time. There was so much to do; he needed to be ready as soon as Williams gave him the green light on his plan. John was incredibly grateful for his friend, glad that he had shown up as he knew he would. Williams was right, though, the plan was risky. But if it worked, it had the potential to save not only his own business but venues all around the city. 

In general, everyone had seemed to have a nice time. He was pleased with the turnout, his mother’s impeccable planning shinning throughout the night. They’d at least managed to put on a good show of stability if nothing else. The casual viewer would guess nothing amiss, judging from the finery and laughter of the night. It didn’t matter that everyone there knew it was all a ruse. 

There was, of course, a glaring dark spot on the evening. Faiths rudeness and his own harsh words reflected poorly on their family, he knew, at least in Maggie’s eyes. He could feel her watching him the rest of the evening, daring him to face her like a man. Yet he couldn't. There was too much else to be worried about, he couldn't allow himself to be caught up in another argument with her. It would drive him to distraction, and this was a time where he could not afford to be distracted.

He glanced down at the flier he was working on, already imaging the places he would place them. Athens, Dahlonega, Carrollton, Milledgeville, Statesboro. John thought that the combination of a local band’s homecoming show and the opportunity for free shows in the future would be enough to draw college kids into the city. A Saturday night after midterms, miraculously on UGA’s bye week- it was almost too perfect. A little short notice, but it was when Williams band was free, if they agreed. John would work through the night if needed, in order to get the fliers up as quickly as possible. He hoped the colleges were far enough removed from the city and the boycotters that the news wouldn’t reach the Ghosts immediately, though he doubted it would be kept on the down low for long.

There wasn’t much the Ghosts could do about it, anyway. They couldn’t prevent an outside crowd from coming in. If he could draw enough people, have the right promoters and reporters present, he could show them that music wasn’t dead in Atlanta. They would have hope, Ghosts or no Ghosts. A dramatic show of force could be all that was needed to turn the tides of public opinion, which obviously favored the boycotters at the moment. 

Plan firmly in mind, John allowed himself to relax for a moment. As soon as Williams contacted him with the confirmation, he would be ready to go, to paint the smaller college towns with his advertisements. Maybe he could convince Williams to go with him; it would be like the old days when they were teenagers and would drive up to the mountains for some fresh, country air. They’d both dreamed about the colleges they would go to, what their majors would be, as they looked over the little college town up in the foothills of the Appalachians. Or when they would make the trip to Athens for a game, full of Georgia pride in their red and black.

Reflecting on those glory days, he wondered if Maggie had been outside the city to see any of the gorgeous sights in the surrounding area. She would probably love them, he thought, she seemed like the kind of girl who would appreciate nature and small-town charm. An image of a feisty little girl growing up in the New England countryside came into his mind, making him smile. , he chastised himself. If she didn’t have a poor enough opinion of him now, she definitely would after his plan went into action.

With that disheartening thought, he stood up, glancing at the stack of fliers he had at the ready. No, Maggie wasn’t going to take kindly to his scheme, and he didn’t blame her. He hated artifice and deceit, but sometimes there were forces beyond his control. Those forces were pushing him towards this plan of his, making him grasp at the only chance he had to come out on the other side relatively unscathed. If it only worked. Flipping off the lights, John walked home in the quiet night, grateful for this small calm before the coming storm.

 

_Maggie_

Somehow, she had not noticed how frail and thin her mother had become. It was odd how things can change right under your nose, and you don’t notice until someone points out the difference to you. Translucent skin, gaunt eyes, trembling hands. Mrs. Hale was the very picture of an ill person. Yet, Maggie and her father had remained willfully ignorant of this fact, letting the woman waste slowly away right before their eyes without even realizing it was happening. Maggie stood in the doorway for a moment, the breath knocked out of her lungs as she absorbed the severity of her mother’s health. 

“Oh, Maggie! You’re back. Come on in, tell me all about the party. Did you have fun?” Mrs. Hale straightened up and patted the bed beside her, where she had been reading, awaiting her family’s return. She noticed that Maggie looked upset, her eyes fixed on the floor as she moved slowly toward the bed. “What’s wrong, my little bird?” 

Maggie sat lightly on the edge of the bed, fighting back the sudden rush of tears that made her eyes feel hot. She couldn’t seem to find the words to say without revealing what she now knew. Her mother was more perceptive than usual and quickly caught onto the reason for her distress. “Oh, dear, what did your aunt Dixie tell you? She promised she wouldn’t say anything.” 

Shaking her head quickly, Maggie finally spoke up with a trembling voice. “I made her tell me, so don’t blame her,” she said.

“Dixie is the one who said we should keep it between us,” her mother murmured, not irritated but not quite pleased to be having this conversation. 

That revelation sparked Maggie’s anger, which was already simmering just below the surface. “Who is she to make that decision? I’m your daughter!” She raised her voice a bit more than she intended, causing her mother to flinch in response. 

Sighing, Mrs. Hale shushed her daughter. “Hush now, I don’t want to alarm your father.” On one hand, Maggie thought he ought to be alarmed. But she understood now was probably not the time to do so. Her mother continued, “Don’t be angry at Dixie, love. You know she’s been better to me than my own sister.”

Maggie lowered her voice to match her mother’s. “I won’t, I’m sorry.” She gave her mother a hug. 

They sat there a moment before Mrs. Hale started speaking again. “I’ve been thinking about our home, out in the country. I used to complain about it, how it was too boring, and I wanted to go somewhere more exciting. Now, I’ll be able to see it again… And Finn. I’ll never see him either.” Now her eyes filled with tears, her voice trembling. “I don’t think I can stand it, Maggie.” Her soft crying sounded like thunder in the small room, which brought Dixie running in.

“Shh, now, it’s okay,” Dixie bundled up the smaller woman in a hug, shooting Maggie a disapproving look as she comforted her friend. Maggie felt shut out from this private scene, as if she were intruding on something that didn’t involve her. It was the worst kind of feeling, to be an outsider in your own family, but not one she was unfamiliar with. Soon enough it seemed her mother and aunt Dixie had all but forgotten she was there, so Maggie turned quietly and left the room, making her way to the kitchen with her own quiet tears.

That’s where Dixie found her sometime later, staring off into space in the kitchen. The older woman quickly got to work getting her something to snack on. “So, now you know everything,” she said, sitting down at the table across from Maggie. “I guess you’ll tell your father, too.”

Maggie shook her head, giving voice to the thought that had been tumbling around in her head. “No, I don’t think I will. I don’t know if he can handle that right now. Besides, I’m sure he has some idea.” Though she wasn’t so sure; if she hadn’t noticed herself, why would her oblivious father be any more perceptive?

But her aunt Dixie seemed satisfied with this answer. “I’ve known for a while now how sick she was. That’s why I came down here, you know?” She didn’t expect an answer, continuing talking without pause, “I remember the first time we met, in junior high. She was so charming and popular. But when she saw me fall in gym, she took me to the nurse’s office and helped me back to class. We’ve been friends ever since. Now,” she said, patting Maggie’s hand affectionately, “it’s late, you should be getting off to bed.”

Standing up, Maggie gave Dixie a hug. “I’m sorry I was angry with you, aunt Dixie,” she said.

“Oh, hush. It’s good to see some fire in you! It reminds me of your brother,” she replied, smiling wistfully at her best friend’s daughter, so unlike her friend. Maggie was certainly a picture of her father. It saddened her, knowing that when Maria was gone there would be nothing left, no reminder of her in the daughter she left behind. It was with these thoughts that she sat in the kitchen, long after Maggie had gone to bed.

_John_

The storm rolled in just a couple days later, in the form of Williams standing in his doorway, a grin on his face. “Let’s do it,” he said simply when John looked up from the papers on his desk to see who had arrived. It was already evening; this time of day the only person he expected to come to his office would be his mother, or perhaps Faith if she wanted something from him. Williams’ presence shouldn’t have been a surprise since he had been waiting on an answer. But the sight of his friend brought a childlike excitement, one he hadn’t felt in a long time.

There was a sense of danger in his heart as they set out. It was familiar, but very different from the kind of danger to which John had become comfortable with. it wasn’t a mortal danger; this wasn’t a war-torn country. He didn’t need to fear for his life tonight. Even if their plan didn’t work, he would survive. John smiled, taking a deep breath of the crisp fall air before climbing into Williams’ Mercedes. The car was different, the destinations were different, the boys were now men, but the feeling was the same. The two of them, heading out on a search for adventure.

It grew dark as they traveled from town to town, putting up fliers where ever it was allowed, and a few places it wasn’t. They were exhausted by the end, the sun coming up over the horizon as they finished up and stopped at Waffle House for some breakfast. John was incredibly grateful for his old friend’s help, taking time out of his busy schedule to drive all over the state on a whim. They hadn’t spent this much time together in years, possibly not since John joined the army.

It was this thought that caused a small grimace to cross John’s face. Williams, always perceptive, noticed his expression and stopped mid-bite, setting his fork down next to his waffle. “What is it?” He asked, though he had some idea what was on his friend’s mind. Williams mind had been wandering in a similar direction. 

The parallels between this morning and one many year’s past were glaring to both of them. John had just finished up a late shift at his warehouse job, and Williams had been partying after another sold out show; he was drunk, so John went and picked him up. They went to Waffle house to sober him up before dropping him off at home. A plate of waffles, some hash browns, and a couple cups of coffee later, Williams dropped the bomb on John.

“I’m leaving.” John had almost thought it was a joke, but the serious look on his friend’s face said otherwise. He was leaving, going on tour with his band, leaving John behind to navigate the waters alone. It was hard for Williams to leave his home, but he wanted to be a rock star, and eventually, he was. Meanwhile, John joined the army. He didn’t do it out of a sense of American pride or on a search for adventure, but because he thought he had no other choice. This time, no one was there to talk him out of his crazy scheme. The news hadn’t even reached his best friend before he was in basic training.

It wasn’t Williams’ fault, of course, but they both knew how the outcome would have changed, had he been around. He would have never let his friend join the army, and John wouldn’t have come back broken inside and out. Thank god for Mr. Bell, the old coot, for taking John under his wing. The thing was, he shouldn’t have had to in the first place. 

Now, in the very same Waffle House as all those years ago, with many of the same workers, the same booths, probably the same grime on the stove top, there was so much between them that remained unsaid. John sighed and shook his head, giving his friend a small smile. “Thanks, Andy. For everything.” Now wasn’t the time to talk about the past. John had to prepare himself for the very, very near future, and the backlash of their hurried road trip. There wouldn’t be any time to sleep today, because as sleepy college towns woke up with the sun, the calls came flooding in, and John knew it wouldn’t be long before the news reached the boycotters. His counter strike was in full swing, and he was ready for whatever came next.


	14. Chapter 14

_“Men of destruction reap iniquity_   
_When heroes of courage die with dignity_   
_How many weapons did I help create?_   
_And how many lives will it devastate?”_

-Hurt

_Maggie_

Things had been strangely quiet for a few days. Everyone seemed frozen, waiting on the edge of their seat to see who would cave first. Maggie could tell people were getting agitated; the city fizzled with anxious energy, ready to burst at any moment when the pressure got to be too much. She saw it in the tired lines on Becca’s face, felt it in Nick’s glaring absence as he spent more time at the bar.

Life couldn’t come to a complete halt, though, and her mom’s illness was too obvious to ignore. Maggie remembered what Faith had said about essential oils- the thought came to her as she heard her mother retching in the bathroom. In a desperate attempt to do something, anything, to help, she decided to head over to the Thornton’s. It felt good to be out of the house, the chilly air cooling her lungs and wind whipping through her hair.

On a whim, she decided to ride her dad’s bike over. It was less than 5 miles and seemed like a perfect way to blow off some of the anxious energy thrumming through her body. Helmet on, she pedaled through the side streets to avoid car traffic as much as possible. Almost no one was out and about, it seemed, unusual even for mid-morning. Was it a holiday she’d forgotten about? Her mom hadn’t felt like even watching the news this morning, so she wasn’t sure.

Mrs. Thornton opened the door with concern creasing her brow. “Oh, Maggie, it’s you. I thought… Did you see John on the road?” She asked in an anxious tone, looking around fervently before pulling Maggie in and closing the door firmly behind her. 

“No,” Maggie responded, wondering why John would be expected home this time of day, anyway. “I’m sorry to bother you, Mrs. Thornton, Faith had just mentioned the other night about some essential oils for my mother…” She trailed off, hearing a strange thundering sound in the distance.

Before she could figure out where the sound was coming from, the door burst open again, startling both the women. “John! Thank goodness you’re home.” His mother cried while he locked the door behind him. 

John was obviously surprised to find Maggie in his home but was apparently in too much of a rush to question it. “Mom, Maggie, y’all go upstairs. Get the gun, lock the door, stay quiet.” He was struggling to catch his breath, looking like he had run all the way home from The Mill. He motioned again for them to go upstairs as the roaring sound from outside grew louder. 

There was a gun suddenly in John’s hand as if it materialized out of thin air. Maggie glanced at it quickly before locking eyes with John. There was none of the soft kindness she’d become accustomed to seeing in his eyes. Instead, she saw the cold, calculating fear of a soldier preparing for battle. The expression on his face sent shivers down her spine, freezing her in place until Mrs. Thornton tugged her up the stairs. They raced up the staircase and into a back bedroom where Faith was already huddled in a corner, the older woman grabbing a shotgun from a rack before telling the girls to stay put. 

Of course, Maggie followed Mrs. Thornton down the hall to a room with windows overlooking the street, staggering a bit when she saw what was below. A sea of people crowded in front of the house, chanting something she couldn’t make out. But one thing was obvious, they were upset, and there was no question who the focus of their anger was.

Across the room was a TV set to the news station, a familiar name catching her attention. The headline on the screen said, “Thornton initiates plan to break Ghost’s boycott.” Oh no. Maggie’s heart sunk as the newscaster outlined the details of the plan. It was actually an impressive idea, but she could see what had stirred the boycotters into such a frenzy. They stood on the front lawn of the large house, not yet willing to make the leap onto the porch and forgo all sense of order. She wondered how long that feeling would hold.

_John_

It only took a few days for the news to spread. He was almost glad when it did because every moment was torture waiting to see what the Ghosts’ reaction would be to his actions. John was at The Mill, still selling tickets to Williams’ show left and right, when the phone rang. 

“You need to turn on the news,” Watson said solemnly with no preamble. John knew immediately what this was about, dread filling his heart as he clicked on the television. He wasn’t sure what to expect, but he hadn’t thought it would go so far as the enormous group of protestors making their way through the city towards The Mill, led by none other than that fool Steven. The crowd looked angry and volatile. His thoughts immediately turned towards his family, at home, potentially unaware of any danger.

Picking up the phone again to call his mother, John discovered the phone line was dead. Something was very, very, wrong. Every instinct he had told him he needed to get out of there and fast. He could see the crowd on the street now, so he slipped out the back door and took off towards home. He had quite a head start before they noticed he was running. They didn’t bother to change pace- they knew where he was going. 

The cold air stung his lungs as he sprinted towards home and burst through the front door. The last person he expected to find there was Maggie. She couldn’t have picked a worse time to stop by, but that wasn’t important right now. He needed to make sure they were safe. His body went into autopilot as he grabbed his gun from his waist and barked orders at his mother, looking at Maggie one last time. He expected to see terror in her eyes, like he knew Faith’s held at that moment. But it wasn’t fear he found there, just concern and confusion. 

He realized she didn’t know what was going on. Well, she would find out soon enough. There wasn’t time to worry about that, though. He sat on the stairs after the women had disappeared, watching the door with his gun at the ready. The police would come, he knew, Watson had hurriedly told him they were already contacted. It was how long they would take to arrive that concerned him. 

Outside, the crowd gathered in front of the house- on the street, on the sidewalk, on the lawn. John could see them through the peephole on the door, chanting his name like they were calling for blood. Straining, he could make out the sounds of sirens far in the distance. Good, faster than he thought. Thinking the police would be there soon, he dashed upstairs to check on the women. 

Of course, his mother wouldn’t stay hiding in the back room. John wasn’t surprised to see Maggie with her, either. Faith lets out a wail from the backroom as the crowd grows louder, catching sight of John in the upstairs window. He turns to his mom, “See if you can keep her calm, there’s no need to panic.” _Yet_. The unspoken word hung between them as Mrs. Thornton nodded before rushing to comfort Faith. 

Maggie was standing dangerously close to the window, watching the scene on the ground. He moved closer, trying to keep out of sight while still being able to keep tabs on what they were doing down there. The sirens were a bit louder, now, but it would still take time for them to make it through the crowded streets. “Don’t be scared. Just a little bit longer, Maggie, the police will be here soon.”

This seemed to alarm her more than comfort her. “I’m not afraid. Can’t you do anything to help them?”

“The police will take care of them,” he said, shaking his head. 

She turned to him, frantic. “Take care of them? John, they might kill some of them! Please, do something, go talk to them! They’re scared and desperate, not criminals. You pushed them to this, try to convince them to leave.” Her words stung with the accusation that this was his fault, the fire in her eyes daring him to contradict what she said.

Was she right, did he cause this? At the very least she had a point about the police. There was no doubt some, if not many, in the crowd were carrying weapons. If the mob turned on the police, there could possibly be causalities. Did he want more blood on his hands? They stared at each other for a long moment before he made his decision, turning away without a word. He heard Maggie call out after him, but he was already down the stairs. Taking a deep breath and holstering his gun, he stepped outside to face the angry crowd.

_Maggie_

The police were coming. Under the circumstances, that should have been a good thing. The thought terrified Maggie, however, knowing that things could easily turn deadly with a crowd so large and unruly. John was suddenly in the room with them, moving with the stealth and grace of a mountain lion. Someone caught sight of him from the ground, and the ensuing noise caused Faith to cry out from her hiding place. 

After he sent his mom check on Faith, John moved closer to her, closer to the window. She could see the tension in his every movement, careful and deliberate as he positioned himself to see out the window yet remain out of sight. He looked the very picture of a soldier preparing for battle. But this wasn’t a warzone, and those people weren’t his enemy. 

It was suddenly very important to Maggie that he understood that. She didn’t think he would rush down, guns ablaze, but maybe he hadn’t thought through the potential human consequences. It wasn’t her intention to place the blame firmly on his shoulders, but that was how it came out. Her words had some effect, though, because she could almost see the thoughts racing in John’s mind before he turned and rushed back downstairs.

John’s sudden absence and the continued cacophony of the crowd sent a bolt of terror through her. Maybe she was wrong. She was always saying to leave things to the police, and now she told him to take matters into his own hands. “John, be careful!” She called out after him, too late. Running to the window, she could see the crowd practically frothing at the mouth as John stood before them. There were a lot of people she recognized, faces she’d seen countless times before at various shows and events. Butch was there, looking like he’d aged 10 years since the last time she’d seen him. 

There was one face she recognized that she couldn’t quite place at first. It hit her when she saw the flash of bright sunlight glinting off the knife in his hand. Steven, the terrible man from The Mill. His face held a different emotion, not the desperation and fear of the others, but something far more sinister. Her limbs felt like ice as she realized how much danger she’d sent John into. In the next moment, she was racing down the stairs, desperate to get him back to safety. 

“Stop!” The crowd quieted a moment at the surprise of the familiar face bursting out of the door and throwing herself in front of John. “Please, think about what you’re doing. It’s all of you against one man. Go home, before the police come.” John stood boldly next to her, straight-backed and arms crossed in defiance. She could see more clearly now that the crowd held weapons of various sorts, a flash of a knife here, the dull black of a gun there. The glaring emptiness of John’s hands made her proud of him, standing defenseless and so very brave. It also terrified her; there wasn’t even the illusion of safety out here in front of an armed and angry mob. 

Someone in the middle of the crowd spoke up. “Will you stop the student discount, then?” The rest of the crowd murmured in agreement with this question.

John’s irritation almost had a physical presence, like it had feelings and a mind of its own. And it didn’t take kindly to being told how to run his business, mob or no mob. “Absolutely not!” His angry words caused a new surge of rage in the crowd, everyone yelling over one another in an indistinguishable roar. 

Never taking his eyes off the crowd, John spoke to Maggie. “It’s not safe out here, go back inside.” 

He wasn’t the only one who disliked being ordered around. Besides, she wasn’t about to leave him here alone to face the volatile crowd. “They know me- they won’t hurt me,” she said, moving to stand in front of him, eyes searching the group for a friendly, reasonable face. 

“Oh, using a woman as a shield now, Thornton?” Stephen sneered, egging the crowd on. The sirens seemed louder now, adding fuel to Maggie’s urgency and the protester’s desperation. 

Suddenly her feet weren’t on the ground anymore, as John picked her up effortlessly by the shoulders and moved her behind him. “Go inside, before I carry you in there!” The glint in his eye told her not to argue. A flash of motion caught her attention; Butch was at the foot of the porch stairs, raising his arm as if to throw something. Maggie saw the large stone before it left his hand. 

Reacting out of pure desperation, she threw herself at John, wrapping her arms around him and catching him off guard enough to move the back of his head out of the path of the stone. The unfortunate consequence of this, of course, was that she was now in the trajectory of the stone. Maggie realized this a split second before it crashed into her temple and the world went black. 

_John_

There was no reason for her to be outside. His attention was divided between the crowd and the woman who had foolishly put herself in danger. This wasn’t her fight; she shouldn’t have been at the house in the first place. And now she was on the porch, striving to calm a sea of armed, bitter men. For a moment it seemed like it would work. But he couldn’t— wouldn’t— meet their demands to redact the student discount promotion he was running. The plan was in motion, nothing the boycotters could say or do could stop it. 

If only he could get Maggie back inside. The police would come, break up the protest, and the people he cared about would be safe. Instead, she stood in front of him, as if he was the one that needed to be protected. Little fool. It just gave Stephen more ammo to work up the crowd, making John look weak in the process. 

It was a battle of wills, but his desire to keep her safe was stronger than whatever had brought her outside in the first place. She didn’t need to be out here when the police came, didn’t need to see whatever might take place. He knew it could get ugly, that’s why he wanted to protect her. When she refused to go back inside, he decided to forcibly remove her.

She was heavier than she looked; still, he was able to lift her with ease and place her firmly out of harm’s way. Or so he thought- if only she had stayed there. Maggie wasn’t listening to his commands. Instead, she was looking out into the crowd over his shoulder. Out of nowhere, her full weight was against him, making him stumble a moment with her arms wrapped around his neck. He barely had time catch her around the waist before she collapsed, the crowd turning eerily silent. 

The stone on the porch, the blood on Maggie’s temple, her dead weight in his arms as he lowered her to the ground. Pieces of a puzzle that slowly came together in his mind as he struggled to comprehend what had just happened. John felt Maggie’s pulse, panic rising in his chest in response to the pale stillness of her face. The relief when he found it beating strong in her neck almost knocked him over. 

That relief quickly turned to anger. Anger at the person who threw the stone, at the crowd for causing all this in the first place, at Maggie for being so stubborn, at himself for not keeping her safe. He laid her down gently and stood, facing the stunned group before him.

“Are you happy now? Is this what you wanted? Come on, do your worst.” He stood, arms out, showing them he was defenseless, waiting to see if anyone would make good on their threats. Not a person moved; the fight was taken out of them at the sight of Maggie’s limp body on the porch. The sirens were much closer now, the first police nearing the edge of the crowd. That’s when people started running, down streets and alleys in an effort to distance themselves from the police. 

No shots were fired; the protesters were smart enough to stash their weapons once the police arrived, and the cops were just happy the crowd was dispersing without too much effort. While they made their way towards the house to check on its occupants, John scooped Maggie up in his arms, holding her close as he carried her inside. He took her into the living room, calling for his mother to come downstairs. 

Mrs. Thornton came flying down the staircase when she heard the urgency in her son’s voice, worried that he had been injured by the mob outside. She was relieved yet surprised when she saw the limp figure in his arms as he gently places Maggie on the couch. Kneeling next to the injured girl, he gently smoothed back the hair from her pale forehead, whispering something Mrs. Thornton couldn’t quite hear. John’s distress was evident in his face as he turned towards his mother. “Someone threw a rock…” he trailed off with a grimace before looking back down at Maggie. “It should have been me,” he murmured.

There wasn’t time to question that statement; a loud knocking on the door pulled John to his feet. “That will be the police,” he sighed, “I better go sort this out.” He looked into his mother’s eyes for a moment before leaving the room. “You’ll take care of her, make sure she’s okay? Please.” Mrs. Thornton didn’t like the pleading tone. She knew his concern went far beyond what was normal for acquaintances, even close friends, and she didn’t like the implication of the changes she knew would come if he had his heart set on this young woman. But she loved her son and promised that all would be well, so he could go take care of his responsibilities.

It was incredibly difficult for him to leave her there, but John knew he had to straighten things out with the police and try to put this issue to bed as soon as possible. So he tore himself away, distracted and worried through the interviews with the police, the discussions with the other owners who had, of course, heard the news and came round to check on things, and as he swam through the crowd of reporters who had set up around The Mill and his house. 

When it was all said and done, he was relieved to be back at home, so he could check on Maggie and try to figure out what had happened out on the porch. That relief was short-lived, replaced by dismay and anger when he finally made it through the door. He rushed to the couch, frantic, turning around the room trying to make sense of what he was seeing. His mother heard the door and came into the room, confirming what his eyes had already discovered. Maggie was gone.


	15. Chapter 15

_“And could you be the one that's not afraid_   
_To look me in the eye?_   
_I swear I would collapse_   
_If I would tell how I think you fell_   
_From the sky.”_

-Blue October

_Maggie_

Voices swam around her head, sounding both very far away but also uncomfortably close at the same time. The pounding at her temple made her feel sick to her stomach. Maggie fought the urge to throw up while trying to decipher what was being said around her. She was finally able to make out one of the voices as belonging to Faith, while the other she did not recognize. She didn’t hear any signs of John being nearby, hoping desperately that he was okay. A vague memory floated to the surface, of strong arms and warm hands cradling her, reassuring her that John was fine. 

“She’s not dead, is she? Jane?” Faith’s words broke through the haze, but Maggie still couldn’t bring herself to open her eyes against the splitting sensation in her head. She suddenly remembered Faith mentioning her personal trainer- that would be Jane, then. They must have been working out before the riot started.

There was a pause while Jane apparently contemplated Maggie’s appearance. “No, she’s breathing. But lord, she doesn’t look good. So pale.” 

Faith scoffed a bit at this. “Oh, she always looks like that. God, where is mom? Why didn’t she just call 911 instead of running next door for Doctor Donaldson?” Maggie could hear the sound of Faith’s footsteps pacing the room. _Thank god she didn’t call an ambulance_ , she thought, knowing the expense and drama that would have incurred. 

“Your mom said it would be faster, not having to wait for the ambulance to make it through the crowded streets.” Jane didn’t sound so sure of the validity of this reasoning, herself. When Faith didn’t respond, she continued, dropping her voice, “Did you see, Faith, what she was doing?”

The pacing stopped suddenly, Faith’s curiosity raised enough to overcome her anxiety. “What do you mean?” 

Maggie had to strain to hear the conspiratorial whisper of Jane’s words. “The Hale girl and Mr. Thornton. The way she threw herself at him. It looked like she wanted to ravish him then and there!”

“You’re kidding!” Faith sounded almost gleeful with this turn of events. “Did everyone else see it? Mom was right, she does have her sights set on John!” 

That was enough for Maggie. She pulled her eyes open against the blinding light and struggled to sit up. “Oh! Jane, get her some water,” Faith said, rushing over to Maggie’s side and crouching awkwardly next to her. “Hold tight, Maggie. Mom’s gone to get our neighbor, he’s a doctor. She’ll be back soon!” Her voice was uncomfortably close and loud near Maggie’s sore head.

“I don’t need to see a doctor,” Maggie said, sitting up fully now. “I need to go home.”

Faith looked a little frantic at this, worried what her mother would think if she returned and Maggie was gone. Thankfully, Mrs. Thornton came in at that moment. “Thank goodness you’re back. Maggie…” she gestured helplessly at the girl on the couch.

“Did something else happen?” Mrs. Thornton came quickly to Maggie’s side, the neighborly doctor trailing behind her. 

The motion of shaking her head quickly made the room spin, but Maggie powered through it. “No. No, I’m fine. I just want to go home.” 

She tried to be patient while the doctor examined the cut on her head before shining a light in her eyes. It stung, but Dr. Donaldson seemed satisfied with what he saw. “It probably looks worse than it is, though I’d still recommend a trip to the ER, just to get checked out. There’s always a possibility of concussion with head injuries.” 

“No- my mom, she’s very sick. I don’t want to worry her. She can’t handle this kind of excitement right now. Really, I feel much better already. I just want to go home and rest.”

Everyone in the room looked skeptical of this. “Surely you should listen to the doctor’s recommendation, Maggie,” Mrs. Thornton said, looking to Dr. Donaldson for confirmation.

The doctor shrugged. “I can’t make her go if she doesn’t want to. Did you drive yourself here?” He asked, turning towards Maggie.

“No, I rode my dad’s bike.”

He seemed to decide on another way to dispense of his professional duties. “Well, let’s load it into my truck and I’ll drive you home. You shouldn’t ride home alone, especially not now.” 

Accepting this compromise, Maggie stood up weakly and said goodbye to the women. Mrs. Thornton still didn’t look pleased but decided there was nothing further she could do. She just hoped John would be as understanding when he returned home.

_John_

“What do you mean, she went home?” John’s anger was focused squarely on his mother, something she wasn’t used to. All the terror and anxiety of the day’s events were simmering under the surface, stirred by the absence of the one person he was most concerned about. If only he could see that she was safe and sound, then he could be calm.

Mrs. Thornton was instantly agitated at his tone and demeanor. “Honestly, John, she was fine,” she said, pushing off her own unease with the situation.

Distress was written on John’s face, washing over him in waves that he tried to push down. “She was hurt! How could you let her just go?” 

“Doctor Donaldson from next door examined her. I went and got him myself. We did everything we could to get her to go to the emergency room, or at least stay and rest for a while.” Mrs. Thornton was beginning to wish she had just called 911 instead of going for the doctor. But she knew Maggie’s family was already swamped with medical bills. A sudden memory of the young man with the nail gun injury, the terror in his face, had made up her mind in the moment. She doubted the paramedics would have been able to better convince Maggie, anyway.

Somehow, John at least understood that much; he was grateful that his mom had been considerate in that aspect. “Thank you, mom. Though it probably wasn’t safe for you…”

His mother couldn’t resist voicing her opinion, now that John’s anger had somewhat given way. “I don’t think it’s possible to make that girl do anything she doesn’t want to do, regardless. Such a stubborn, reckless young woman.” John looked sharply up at this, glancing over at Jane who was soaking in the conversation like a sponge. 

“Jane, don’t you have anywhere else to be?” He had never been a fan of his sister’s friendship with her personal trainer, knowing that the woman was a shameless gossip. 

She had the nerve to look contrite, motioning towards Faith, who had sprawled dramatically across the couch, waiting for someone to notice her. “I thought Faith needed some support since y’all were so preoccupied,” she said, a challenging look in her eye, further cementing John’s negative opinion of her character. 

Sitting up at the mention of her name, Faith fanned herself with her hand. “It was so scary, John! I thought they were going to come in and kill us all!” She collapsed back, eyes closed in apparent distress. 

Neither John nor his mother was in the mood for her antics. “Lord, Faith, stop being so ridiculous,” Mrs. Thornton said shortly. 

“You weren’t in any danger. I had it under control.” John sank heavily into a chair, holding his face in his hands for a moment. Faith hadn’t been able to come up with a comeback to her family’s remarks, instead settling on a dirty look directed at her brother. He ignored her, standing up again and moving to put on his jacket. 

Alarmed, Mrs. Thornton put out a hand to stop him. “Where are you going?” She asked though she knew the answer already. 

He paused but didn’t look at his mother, worried that she might stop him. “I’m going to check on Maggie,” he said, walking towards to door. 

“She went home with Dr. Donaldson, John! We made sure she was alright.” The desperation in her voice made him stop fully this time, turning to look at his mother. Her eyes held an emotion he hadn’t seen in years, the same one that appeared whenever his father went out, shortly before he died. “Don’t go, John.” She wouldn’t beg, but he could hear the unspoken plea in her voice. 

Torn between his mother’s distress and his own desperate need to see Maggie, John closed his eyes. “Okay,” he said simply, before striding out the door. Mrs. Thornton stared after him, hoping against hope that her son meant he wouldn’t go to the Hales. He had seemed to discern her meaning, as they usually understood each other. But if he wasn’t going to see Maggie, where was he going? She couldn’t do anything but sit and worry until he returned.

_Maggie_

The doctor still looked uncertain as he dropped Maggie off at her house, but there was nothing he could do to sway her decision to go home. He left her with his phone number and urged her to call if anything changed, or if she needed anything at all. She knew she wouldn’t, even though she still felt nauseated and a bit light headed. The cut on her temple stung; thankfully, she’d been able to cover the spot with her hair, so it was almost unnoticeable. 

“Maggie? Thank goodness you’re home,” her mother’s voice called weakly from the living room.

Taking in her rough appearance in the entryway mirror, Maggie quickly said to her mother, “My bike ride was more intense than I expected; I’m going to take a shower real fast,” before moving down the hall towards her bathroom. After showering she still felt woozy, but at least didn’t look so scuffed up.

She was in the living room with her mom watching a game show when her father came home. He looked with relief at his wife and daughter, safely situated on the couch. “I heard on the radio that there was some sort of uproar at The Mill today,” he said, sitting down heavily. “Hopefully everyone is alright.” Maggie looked down at her hands, avoiding her father’s questioning look.

The phone rang, startling everyone in the room. Dixie picked it up in the kitchen, her voice just a mumble through the walls. “Maggie, someone’s on the phone for you. I can’t understand what she’s saying. She sounds upset,” she said, coming into the living room. Maggie got up to see who it was, worry worming its way into her heart.

She recognized the sobbing voice on the line and told Becca she’d be there as soon as she could. Maggie stopped in the living before heading out the door. “I have to run to Becca’s house, I’ll be back in a little while,” she told her parents. They looked concerned, but Maggie didn’t give them time to argue as she ran to her car, mind full of possibilities of what could be wrong.

Becca was curled up on the couch when she got to their apartment. She looked the same as she had the last time Maggie saw her, no sign of bodily injury. No sign of Nick, either, which made Maggie’s heart clench in fear. “Hey, Becca,” Maggie said, sitting down next to her on the couch and smoothing her tear-damp hair out of her eyes. “What’s going on? Where’s Nick?”

“I don’t know where he is,” Becca said, sitting up a little and ignoring the first part of Maggie’s question. “He left a while ago when he heard the news about the mob at the Thornton’s house. He was supposed to go with me to the doctor today for my yearly checkup.” At the mention of the doctor’s appointment, tears started back down her cheeks, making Maggie’s heart drop again. 

Almost afraid to ask, Maggie put her arm around her friend and said, “What did the doctor say?” She had a feeling that she didn’t want to know the answer, but obviously, Becca needed someone to be there for her since her brother was nowhere to be found. Fresh sobs bubbled up, wracking Becca’s small frame while she just shook her head and leaned against Maggie. They stayed like that, not saying anything until Nick came home sometime later, stumbling a bit and smelling like alcohol. Then Maggie left the siblings alone, exhausted from the turmoil of the day and knowing they had a lot to discuss as a family. 

_John_

Sometimes, when he wanted to be truly alone, he would pace the quiet paths of the cemetery. It made him feel closer to his father, somehow, though his body had been cremated and his ashes scattered in the Chattahoochee River. But the cemetery was a part of the city, and therefore a part of him. The cool solidity of the marble tombstones helped calm his racing mind. So much had happened in the last few hours, he didn’t even know where to begin working it out.

Perhaps his mother had been right in telling him not to go see Maggie tonight, though for a very different reason. It was good to take a step back, try to figure out his own mind and heart before rushing in. If John went to the Hale’s house tonight, it was more likely that he would say something he’d later regret. It was usually unwise to let emotions call the shots. Better to have time to think, to see what he was really planning to do about Maggie, to better understand his feelings. 

Those feelings were incredibly strong, almost taking his breath away. Every time he thought of Maggie and what she did, putting herself at risk to save him, it sent a bolt of excitement through his chest. He hadn’t thought he would ever have a chance with a girl like her, but for the first time, he was starting to question that conviction. Was it really possible that Maggie cared about him? The urge to indulge in that fantasy was too strong to resist, so he stopped under a tree in a quiet part of the cemetery to dwell on that fantasy. 

A person coming down the path pulled him from his reverie, the couple walking barely sparing him a second glance. John had never been a romantic sort of person, but seeing the couple, wrapped up in their own little world, made him sad and maybe a little jealous. He’d never had something like that, a person to share everything with, someone to keep him from feeling so alone in the world. Honestly, he had never even wanted that. Until now. 

Was it possible that Maggie had some similar feelings about him? He was tired of his mind going around in circles, asking the same things, and wished he hadn’t promised his mother that he would stay away from the Hale’s tonight. At least then he would have been able to get some answers. Sighing, he decided to head back home, not wanting to stay out too late and cause his mom even more concern. If he could just manage to get some sleep, then his mind could rest.

John wasn’t surprised to find his mother still awake when he got home, though he had hoped she would have headed off to bed if only so he could avoid another conversation about Maggie. “You should get some sleep, I know you’re exhausted,” he said, taking note of the shadows under her eyes. 

“I’m fine. You’ve been gone for a while, I was beginning to worry.” John felt a little guilty at that, never intending to cause his mother concern. She was knitting something, pretending to be absorbed in her work.

He sat heavily on the couch before replying. “I was just walking around a bit.”

Finally looking up at her son, Mrs. Thornton gave him a long look. “Where were you walking?” she asked sharply. He didn’t like the accusation in her tone, as if she didn’t trust him to keep his word. 

“I told you I wouldn’t go there tonight, and I didn’t.” His voice sounded strained to his own ears, the weights of the day pulling his nerves taut. 

“But?” She asked, sensing that wasn’t all he wanted to say.

Sighing, John leaned back and looked at the ceiling, bracing himself for what he needed to say. “But… if there is even the slightest chance, you know what I have to do.”

Her frown deepened at this, suddenly realizing how strong her son’s feelings had grown for this headstrong young woman. “I know. I wouldn’t expect you to do otherwise now that she’s shown everyone her feelings.”

“What about her feelings?” Hope blossomed in his heart at the idea that he wasn’t imagining the signs. 

His mother set aside her knitting and came to sit next to him, patting his hand a little awkwardly. “Oh, John. She ran out into an angry mob and put herself in danger to protect you. The whole city is probably talking about it by now.”

This wasn’t a comfortable conversation for either of them, but John appreciated his mom’s insight, knowing that she wouldn’t lie to make him feel better. She wasn’t the kind of sentimental woman to try and spare even her own son’s feelings. “She did save me,” he said quietly, “but it’s almost too much to believe someone like Maggie could care about someone like me.”

The self-deprecation in his words pricked at Mrs. Thornton’s nerves. “Don’t be ridiculous. She all but screamed it from the rooftops today with her reckless behavior.” They were quiet for a moment before she sighed. “That’s why I didn’t want you to go tonight. I wanted just one more night to get used to the idea, for it to be the same before everything changes again.” It was rare for her to speak so wistfully. She felt pinpricks of tears at the corner of her eyes, blinking quickly and hoping her son didn’t notice.

John was too absorbed in his own thoughts to catch the weighty sadness in his mother’s voice. “I know she doesn’t feel the same,” he said, trying his best to smother the hope that had set up camp in his chest. “But I can’t let this chance pass by. I have to find out for sure.” 

“Don’t be scared, John,” his mom said, standing and walking back to her usual chair. “She’s already shown her feelings to the world. I might even like her for it. It must have been hard to overcome her pride.” He just gave his mom a small smile at that before telling her goodnight and heading off to bed, his stomach in knots as he thought about what he was going to say to Maggie.


	16. Chapter 16

_“She had an earthquake on her mind_  
_apparently the kind that would bury us alive_  
_by putting all this weight on us forever_  
_I lie here on the ocean floor_  
_Broken castle by the shore and_  
_I made this mess_  
_I built this fire_  
_Are you still mine?”_

-The Used

 

_Maggie_

After tossing and turning all night, Maggie woke up more exhausted than she had been before bed, wondering if she had even slept at all. Her head was still a little sore from the injury, especially tender near her temple where the rock had hit. The combination of stress, pain, and lack of sleep made her incredibly irritable that morning, every small inconvenience grating on her nerves as if the world itself had set out to make her miserable.

It was far too early when she heard the knock on the door. Not to mention that she wasn’t expecting anyone. Her mom was still in bed, seemingly getting up later and later every day, spending more time in bed than out lately. Maggie was in the kitchen, staring blankly into the open refrigerator. Nothing sounded good, though she knew she had to eat something to satisfy the gnawing hunger that had set up shop in her stomach. Dixie came through the kitchen doorway, an irritated look on her face. “That tall businessman is here to see you. The one that plays the piano so poorly.” 

Her words took a moment to register. “John?” She asked, confused. “Did you tell him dad is already at work?” 

Dixie crossed her arms. “Of course, I told him that. He said he’s here to see you. He’s in the front room.” The gnawing feeling in Maggie’s stomach was replaced with lead. She wasn’t sure what John had come here for, but she didn’t think it would turn out well for either of them.

Closing the refrigerator, Maggie steeled herself to face John. Whatever he had to say, she would bear it with grace and aplomb.

He looked incredibly handsome, standing at the window with his back to the doorway. Broad shoulders and narrow hips accentuated by the perfection of his posture, rigid as a soldier at attention. It was obvious that he heard her enter the room, though he didn’t turn around immediately.

When he did finally face her, he wouldn’t meet her eye. His gaze traveled across the room, before finally landing on the flowers sitting on a side table. They were irises; out of season, but her mother’s favorite flower. Maggie knew that John had sent them over a few days before. It was a kind gesture and had made her mom smile more than was common these days.

“I’ve never noticed how colorful irises are,” he said, almost startled at the sound of his own voice. “Maggie, I wanted to thank you for what you did yesterday.” He finally looked straight at her; the intensity of his gaze made her uncomfortable.

She looked away first, glancing down at her hands. “Oh, there’s no need to thank me.”

This conversation was already going in a direction he hadn’t planned for. “I think there is,” he said, trying to get it back on track.

“No, I only did what anyone would do,” she responded, trying just as hard to derail his intended discussion.

His blue eyes narrowed a bit while he reigned in his annoyance. “I don’t think that’s true.”

Just as stubborn, Maggie dug in her heels. “Well, it was my fault that you went down there in the first place, isn’t it? I would have done the same for anyone in that situation.” She felt it was a reasonable argument, but John took immediate offense.

“Oh, so you agree with the boycotters, then? I guess I got what I deserved, didn’t I?” The hostility in his voice seemed to come out of nowhere. She wasn’t sure what she’d said to make him so angry, but it irked her nonetheless.

Regardless, she thought to try and defuse the situation. “No, of course not. Just… They're angry and desperate. I think if you'd try to meet with them and try to work it out calmly…”

“Oh, right,” He cut her off a bit harshly. “I forgot that they're your ‘friends’.” The air quotes around his last word only made her angrier. She took a moment to calm herself, not wanting to cause an argument that was sure to be loud and dramatic.

Taking a deep breath, she finally said, “If you could just try to be reasonable…”

Again, his angry words cut her off. “Oh, so now I'm unreasonable?” He said, sounding entirely unreasonable.

“All I'm saying is if you would just try to talk with them instead of poking the fire, don't wait for it to get so bad that the police have to help out, I think-- no, I know they would…” She stopped, his hardened face making her lose her train of thought. She wasn't sure what she had expected him to say when he showed up that morning, but this was far from anything she'd imagined.

“They’ll get what they deserve,” He said bitterly. Apparently, this wasn't how he intended things to go either. He stopped to gather his composure, before turning back towards Maggie and speaking in a much gentler voice. “Maggie, I didn't just come here to thank you.” She knew that already, had been dreading whatever he thought needed to be said. Once it was out there, there was no going back. She wanted to stop it, but found her voice frozen, waiting for him to say the words that would irreversibly change things.  


_John_

Sleep never came. He tried but instead lay there listening to all the sounds of their old house, the creaking and swaying with the wind. Imagining all of the shadows that could hold dangers, the sounds that could be a person creeping through the house. The sun finally rose in the east, as it did every day since the dawn of time. John forced himself to wait for an appropriate hour before heading over to the Hale’s to check on Maggie.

He couldn’t remember the last time he had been so nervous. He’d been to war, seen things that would haunt him forever, yet the thought of facing Maggie and saying what he needed to say was far scarier than any of that. Bracing himself, he knocked on the door, only to be disappointed by Dixie. She looked disturbed when he asked for Maggie, but let him in nonetheless. She offered him a seat that he couldn’t take; he couldn’t sit down and be still with all the nervous energy coursing through his body.

The air in the room shifted when she came in. almost soundless, but he knew the instant she entered, could feel her watching him. what was she thinking? He wished he knew. He would have given anything to be able to read minds at that moment. He finally worked up the courage to face her. She looked tired, much like he imagined he looked himself. But he was glad to see that her injury was small enough to hide with her hair. 

A flash of memory hit him, the feel of her limp in his arms, the terror he felt when she collapsed. The thought almost knocked the breath out of him. he couldn’t meet her eyes; instead, they roved the room, noticing the flowers on the side table. He hadn’t meant to lead with a comment on flowers, but at least it broke the silence that had held them in suspense. 

He also hadn’t intended to start an argument. Her continued sympathy for the boycotters bothered him, after all they had done. Not to mention her insistence that her actions meant nothing- that it was pure instinct, done without regard for any other feelings she might have. That notion felt like a stab to his heart, making him almost reconsider what he wanted to say.

But he couldn’t live with himself if he didn’t tell her. The doubt, the unknown, it would eat him alive. He needed her to know how he felt, whether she wanted to hear or not. “I came here because…” he stopped, not sure how to begin. “Well. This isn’t something I’m used to talking about. I’m not really sure how to say it.” He glanced out the window a moment, reassured by her silence that she wanted to know what he was getting at. “Maggie. Yesterday made me realize that my feelings for you are stronger than I thought.” That didn’t even scratch the surface, but it was a start.

“Please, don’t.” She stopped him before he could say anything more. “Don’t do this.” She wouldn’t look at him fully, instead, she studied the irises. 

The world seemed to grind to a halt beneath his feet. “Do what?” He asked, dreading the answer he knew was coming.

She spoke to the window rather than to him. “Don’t say things like that. It’s not… appropriate.” The excuse fell short, and he knew that she knew it.

“Oh, I already know that I don’t measure up to your high standards, Maggie. But I’d like to know why you find my very feelings for you offensive.” It was the truth; he’d always known that she viewed him, possibly all southern men, as subpar when compared with her previous acquaintances. He just didn’t think she would come right out and say it, had hoped that it was something he could overcome. The thought that his affection was so revolting to her that she didn’t even want to hear what he had to say—that made him angry. 

“I’m offended because you come over here talking about your feelings but show no concern for mine! As if you’re duty bound to care for me just because I saved you.” She was angry, too, though he didn’t know why. Her words made no sense in the context of what his heart was saying.

At least now she was looking at him, even if it was fury and not kindness in her eyes. “I’m telling you how I feel because I love you, not because of some imaginary debt you think I owe.” They stood toe to toe, glaring at each other. The words caught them both off guard; he hadn’t meant to say them, though they’d been whispered in his heart for some time now. But they were out there now, dropped between them like a bomb, waiting to see if she would pick them up or let them blow his heart to pieces.  


_Maggie_

_He loves me_. The thought was like a blow to the chest, knocking out her breath and disorienting her. It didn’t make sense; she didn’t believe it. “Do you think because you are rich and powerful, that you can just have whatever you want? I’m not some accessory you can just add to your collection.” Harsh words, but she thought they held some truth. He may think he loved her, but surely, he only wanted what he thought he couldn’t have.

“I don’t want to possess you. I want to be with you because I love you.” There they were again, those words. The passion in his eyes stung, making her feel as if she flew too close to the sun and got burned. John put more feeling and emotion into two simple ‘I love yous’ than Henry had put into hundreds combined. The comparison rattled her. She couldn’t handle the heat of his emotions; it was all too much. It made her agitated and defensive when all she wanted was for this conversation to be over. 

“You shouldn’t, because I don’t even like you. I never have.” Maggie turned away before the full force of her words hit him. She couldn’t bear to watch the destruction of her own making. It was hard enough to say the words, much less see their effect.

The silence was heavy with the weight of a thousand thoughts unspoken. When John finally spoke again, his voice was soft, sounding very far away. “One minute we’re talking about the color of flowers, the next about love. How did that happen?” 

She didn’t have an answer. “Becca’s cancer is back.” She wasn’t sure why she said it, regretted it as soon as she saw the distressed look on his face. It had been on her mind, of course, on top of everything else. There wasn’t really anyone else she could talk about it with. She knew John would understand somewhat, though now was certainly not the right time to bring it up.

“That’s probably my fault, too, isn’t it?” It was a ridiculous statement. Though Maggie was sure the boycott hadn’t done Becca’s health any favors, John wasn’t explicitly to blame for any of it.

“I’m sorry,” she said. She meant it, too. 

John didn’t want her apologies. “For what? That you think my feelings for you are so god damn offensive? Or because you assume that since I’m a businessman, I must only think in terms of money and power? Or that I don’t give a shit about my friend and employee's health?”

The force of his temper was terrifying, so strong that it was almost beautiful, like nothing she’d seen before. It was a different fury than the one he’d shown in The Mill that first night. This one was raw and desperate, not the calculated anger of the soldier protecting his troop. She instantly felt the need to calm the storm, for fear that it would overtake them both.

“No, wait. That's not it at all.” He looked at her expectantly, waiting to see what she had to say. “I'm just sorry to be so blunt. I never know what to say… How to turn someone down gently. It's always awkward.”

His eyebrows shot up at this. “Oh, so I'm not the only one? This is an everyday thing for you, huh? Right. You must have to break so many hearts.” 

Maggie felt as if her own heart was breaking though she couldn't understand why. “Please, John. You don’t understand—” 

“Oh, I do understand,” he cut her off, stepping closer and staring at her so intently that she found it hard to breathe, getting lost in his angry blue eyes. “I understand you completely.” With that, he turned and walked away. She wanted to call after him, to make him listen to what she wanted to say, but he was long gone before she could gather her thoughts.

_John_

The crisp air had convinced him to take the train to the Hale’s, too antsy to be stuck in a car in the unpredictable traffic patterns on the city. Now he was glad for that; he needed to walk, to burn off this anger that was coursing through him. It was so much easier to be angry than to allow himself to feel the hurt that threatened to knock him down. He took off, not caring where he was going, just needing the steady rhythm of his footsteps to remind him he was alive.

_“I don’t even like you. I never have.”_ Maggie’s words echoed in his heart, clear as the moment she spoke them. She was a coward, wouldn’t even look at him while she broke his heart. Her voice had settled over him like a weight, pulling him down into the depths of his darkness. It rushed in, coaxing him to give into the blackness. It would be so simple to curl into a ball, let the pain whisk him away. 

Instead, he fought sadness with anger, as he usually did. There was no way to hurt Maggie the way she had hurt him. He wondered if she had any feelings at all. How could he have been so mistaken, so far off the mark? She despised him so much that she thought nothing of crushing him, heart and soul. The thoughts went around his head so quickly that he felt light-headed and thought for a moment that he was going to throw up. 

Somehow, he’d walked all the way to the cemetery. He hadn’t even realized where his feet were taking him. It was a good thing, though. Going home wasn’t an option. He didn’t want to face his family just yet, knowing his mom was waiting anxiously for his return. Sitting down on a bench, he closed his eyes, trying to rid his mind of the sounds of Maggie’s harsh rejection. 

It had been an exhausting couple of days, emotionally. Now, he didn’t know what to do next. He hadn’t thought much past what he would say to Maggie, unsure of what her response would be. For all the scenarios he’d thought through, this one hadn’t occurred to him. Sure, rejection had always been a high possibility, but he didn’t think she would be so cruel. _I don’t even like you_. John wished he could say the same. 

Even while cutting him down, he noticed how beautiful she was. Strong and self-assured. Why did she have to be everything he had ever wanted? There were so many women in this city who would jump at the chance to be with him. Why did he have to fall in love with the one who hated him and everything he stood for? It was pure torture. 

What had he done in life to deserve this much pain? That was a dangerous question. He'd done a lot of things that haunted him. Maybe this was his punishment. Maybe he deserved it. Surely there were people up above who reveled in watching him suffer. And maybe they were right; he was no angel. He tried to tell himself that he’d had no choice, that he’d only done what he had to do to survive, that he was just following orders. But he was sure there were people out there who thought differently. In fact, he thought so himself a lot of the time, when he was alone with his memories and couldn’t fight off his demons.

He didn't want to travel further down that dark path of thinking right now, so he stood up and made his way back home. Clouds had started rolling in while he was sitting there, and the rain finally burst free with a booming clap of thunder. John realized he left his umbrella at the Hale's; he was drenched in moments. It was for the best. The rain hid the tears that also finally burst free as he walked down the street.


	17. Chapter 17

_“I know the way you look_  
_You don't want to say what you're thinking_  
_Your eyes, they start to roll when you're holding back_  
_And I used to blame myself_  
_But there must be other serious reasons_  
_Why the devil's in your voice when you start to laugh”_

-Good Old War

_Maggie_

There was nothing better to take her mind off things than girl time. Becca also needed some friend therapy, after the events of the last few weeks. So, the two of them sat in Becca’s room, trying out hairstyles and looking through a box of Maggie's old accessories.

“Lord, I've never seen such a fancy pair of glasses. How do I look?” Becca struck a pose in the candy apple red sunglasses that Henry had bought several years back. She looked fabulous, the color perfectly highlighting her naturally pale complexion. 

Maggie examined her friend with a smile before saying, “They look better on you than they ever did on me. Keep them.”

Quickly pulling off the glasses, Becca shook her head. “Don't be ridiculous. What would I do with something so snazzy?”

“Come on, Becca, I probably only worn those once. They’ll be going to Good Will if you don’t take them.”

Becca rolled her eyes in response. “Alright, alright. Though I’ll be afraid too afraid to lose them to wear them out.” She closed the glasses and put them aside on the nightstand.

“So,” Maggie said, working up the nerve to broach the subject she’d been wondering about since she arrived. “What’s Nick up to today?”

The sadness that came into Becca’s eyes was heartbreaking. “Oh, you know, he’s been having a hard time since the riot. He thought they were making such good progress, too.” She leaned back against the headboard and glanced out the window, avoiding Maggie’s gaze.

“Has everything gone back to normal, then?” Things had been quiet, making Maggie wonder if it really was just that easy, if everyone could just return to business as usual.

Becca sighed. “I think they sort of gave up, after everything that happened at Thornton’s. The idiots. I don’t know what they thought would happen, gathering in the streets like that, throwing stones at innocent bystanders.”

The blush that came into Maggie’s cheeks went thankfully unnoticed by her friend. “I’m sure it wasn’t as dramatic as the news made it seem,” she said, looking away.

“They’re lucky it wasn’t worse! And Nick is so angry about it all… I wish I knew where he was.” She couldn’t stop the tears this time, swiping at them angrily. “I’ve never seen him like this, Maggie. I’m worried what he might be up to, what he might do.”

Maggie didn’t have any words of comfort; she just grabbed her friend’s hand while they sat in silence, each lost in their own thoughts.

_John_

The phones had been ringing all day after the news had spread. Promoters and bands across the country were taking John’s side when they heard the story of the violent mob, and how bravely John had stood against them. The riot effectively changed the tides in favor of the owners, and bookings were streaming in. The Mill’s calendar was filling up with bands adding last minute shows to their tours.

“It looks like things will be picking up again,” Hannah Thornton said, looking over her son’s shoulder at the schedule he was working on. John just nodded absently, absorbed in his work, the sudden influx of business a welcome distraction for his personal life failings. “What about the promotion?”

John finally put down his pen and turned his attention to his mother. “It did the job. I put a cap on the number available, or there would be no tickets left for anyone else.”

Sitting down, Mrs. Thornton snorted. “It would serve them right if we refused to sell tickets to anyone involved in the boycott.”

There was no answer from John in that regard. Instead he stood up and walked over to where his mother was sitting. “I was right, by the way,” he said softly. “Maggie doesn’t want anything to do with me.”

She looked up at him with a furrowed brow, unsure of whether to be pleased for herself or sad for her obviously heartbroken son. “You didn’t have anything to worry about after all. No one cares about me except you.” He gave her hand a squeeze before turning to leave the room.

Instead of letting go, she tugged him back so he would kneel beside her. “A mother’s love never changes. Girls are flighty, their feelings changing with the slightest wind,” she said, knowing it wasn’t much comfort.

“I always knew that I wasn’t good enough for her, but I’d hoped…” he said, blinking quickly. “It doesn’t make sense, but now I think I love her more than ever.

Mrs. Thornton frowned. “Well, I hate her!” She said with more feeling than she showed for most things. “I tried not to if she really could have made you happy.”

Standing up, John paced the floor but didn’t answer. “I’d give anything for that, for you to be happy,” his mother continued, “Who is she, to think she’s too good for a man like you?”

“Don’t.” He didn’t want to hear any more.

She stood up too, thinking he needed to hear what she had to say whether he liked it or not. “It’s too late, John. When you hurt, I hurt. And since you won’t hate her for this, I will. Someone has to.”

Putting his hands on the window frame, John stared out into the darkness a moment, gathering his temper. “She doesn’t have feelings for me, and that is the end of it. The only thing you can do to help is to never mention her again.” He turned to face his mother, the sadness and exhaustion in his face making him look 20 years older. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”

It broke her heart to see him like this. “I’m sorry, John. I just wish she and her family would leave and go back to where they came from. I wish they’d never come here in the first place.” John couldn’t find it in his heart to say the same.

When he closed his eyes, he saw Maggie’s limp body in his arms. He heard her harsh words of rejection in every moment of silence. The fear and the pain danced inside his heart throughout the night, threatening to pull him under with the weight of it all. Sleep proved no better, wracked with nightmares filled with shadowy figures intent on inflicting harm on the people he loved.

_Maggie_

The unfamiliar car in front of her parents’ house told Maggie that they had a visitor. She was still reeling from the emotions of the day, between John and Becca, she didn’t feel up to entertaining someone. Sneaking past wasn’t an option though, so she sucked it up and went inside. Mr. Bell was probably one of the last people she felt like seeing at the moment, with his knack for homing in on the uncomfortable things she preferred to stay hidden. Regardless of what she wanted, her parents beckoned her to stay and visit with her godfather.

“Look at those flowers; wasn’t it just so kind of John to send them?” Her mother said, smiling at the irises on the table.

Maggie couldn’t bring herself to comment, the events of the morning still too fresh on her mind. Thankfully, her father was ready with an answer. “They have to be the loveliest flowers I’ve ever seen. And at this time of year, very impressive,” he said with affection.

“With a hand-written card, no less! He’s been so kind, but I didn’t think he’d have the time to think about us now, not with the boycott and all that drama going on.”

Mr. Hale patted his wife’s hand in response. “It shows his appreciation for you, love.”

Smiling, Mrs. Hale turned towards her daughter. “You should drop by the Thornton’s, Maggie, and thank John for his lovely gift.”

The thought of going to the Thornton’s house made Maggie want to curl up and die, though she tried her best to hide that sentiment at the moment. “I’m sure we can just send him a note, mom,” she said, hiding her face in a book she had picked up from the side table, hoping that would be the end of the conversation.

“I saw Thornton on the street earlier,” Mr. Bell said, unable to let the topic pass. “He didn’t seem quite so put together as usual.”

This observation was concerning to Mr. Hale, who secretly worried about his young friend. “Really, what do you mean?” he asked, trying to mask his anxiety.

Bell shook his head, thoughtful for a moment. “He just seemed very distracted; I’m sure he didn’t even seem to notice me, right across the street. I thought he might have been visiting here since it was right down the road.”

His words perplexed Mr. Hale even more since he was certain John hadn’t been by that morning. There wasn’t much other reason for him to be in the area, though, as far as he knew. “Maggie?” He asked his daughter hesitantly, wondering if there was something she hadn’t told him.

Maggie stood up suddenly, unable to stay in this room any longer. “Excuse me, I have some things I need to do.” She left the room before anyone had a chance to say a thing, rushing off to her room for some much-needed solitude. The last few days pressed in on her as she threw herself on her bed, gasping for air against the pressure of the world.

“Have you ever thought there might be some feelings between Thornton and Maggie?” Mr. Bell asked his old friend after Maggie disappeared up the stairs.

The thought alarmed Mr. Hale, as though he had never entertained the notion. “Oh, dear, no. Absolutely not. Well…” he paused, reflecting on the situation. “I guess it’s possible, at least on John’s part. But for Maggie, there’s no way. She’s never liked him, poor thing. I hope he hasn’t gotten his hopes up.” They sat quietly for a while, both thinking of the two young people and the potential for heartbreak.

_Becca_

The fatigue seemed to come on suddenly, and all at once. It was a familiar feeling, not pleasant by any means but also not as terrifying as it was the first time around. She knew what it meant, wasn't surprised by the call from the doctor. The expectation didn't make it any easier, however. It couldn't have come on at a worse time. Maybe the stress and turmoil of the boycott had brought it on, or at least accelerated her condition. Either way, Becca was exhausted.

She certainly wasn't in the mood to fight when Butch burst into her apartment looking good Nick. “He'll be back shortly, I reckon,” she said, motioning for him to sit. He seemed on edge, which made her uncomfortable. Thankfully Nick did return quickly, and the two men sat at the table and talked in hushed tones while Becca napped on the couch.

“Loan you money? Are you out of your mind? If anything, I should tell the police who threw that rock at Thornton’s!” Nick's sharp raised voice pulled Becca out of her half-asleep state.

Nick was standing now, hands angrily pressed in front of him. “You wouldn't rat me out,” Butch said, crossing his arms but sounding less sure than his defiant posture indicated.

“I wouldn't be so sure about that. You've ruined everything!” Nick reached across the table and grabbed Butch by his shirt, pulling him up out of his chair.

Fear was plainly evident in Butch’s eyes as he cowered beneath the other man's anger. Becca knew the damage Nick could inflict in a blind rage and thought to do something to stop this fight. “Please, y’all. Don't do this!” Her words fell useless on deaf ears.

“What were you thinking? You could have killed someone, an innocent bystander, a woman!” He released Butch's shirt but didn't step back, almost daring the smaller man to make excuses.

“It was Thornton’s fault. He shouldn’t have—" Nick didn’t let him finish; instead he pushed Butch away, making him stumble into the wall.

“Everything was supposed to be done within the law! We were right, we had everyone behind us, the whole world was rooting for us. But you had to go and act like the hoodlums and criminals that the owners try to make us out to be. You want me to loan you money, lie to the police? I don’t want to be implicated in your crimes. I’m an upstanding man, people trust me.” Nick finally stopped for breath, panting a bit from the exertion of his anger.

Butch had backed further into the corner as Nick’s rant continued but now took the opportunity to speak while he had a chance. “You said everything would be alright! The boycott wasn’t working. When was it going to end? Maybe things were alright for you, but your family wasn’t sick and starving.” He spoke with more boldness than Becca thought was possible from the man, but his words were the exact wrong choice considering the news the Higgins had received recently.

“And neither was yours!” This fresh burst of anger seemed to shake the frames on the wall, causing Butch to cower afresh. “I gave you my word, and I always keep my word.” Nick finally turned away, apparently unable to watch as the tears ran down his friend’s face. “You’re pathetic, you know that? Even with all the money in the world, you would still have failed your family. You were put on this earth to bring everyone else down; your friends, your children, your wife…”

This final insult was too much for Butch. He took a swing at Nick in a last attempt to preserve his dignity, but Nick was expecting it and sidestepped him easily. The smaller man stumbled, barely catching himself on the table. “I’ll turn you in. The police are going to come for you.” Becca wasn’t sure if her brother would make good on his threat, but Butch seemed to believe him. He made for the door without another word.

Nick chased him into the breezeway, calling after him as he scrambled down the stairs. “I’m turning you in, Butch! You better watch your back!” He stomped back inside and slammed the door, finally noticing his sister sitting on the couch, tears silently streaming down her cheeks.


	18. Chapter 18

_“Funny how it seems like yesterday_  
_As I recall you were looking out of place_  
_Gathered up your things and slipped away_  
_No time at all I followed you into the hall”_

-Cage the Elephant

_John_

There was a bleakness in the city that mirrored John's own feelings. He could see it in the sky, in the trees, even in the people. The problem with the city in the forest was that during winter it looked all the more desolate. John was struggling, battling off the constant reminders of Maggie and what he would never have. He threw himself into his work, trying to fill his mind with agents and bookings so that he could push thought of Maggie out.

To make things worse, he was having trouble sitting still. He'd had these feelings before, after coming back from deployment. It was an anxious energy that made his bones itch and his skin crawl. He had a sense that something bad was about to happen like he needed to watch his back and be on even higher alert. This made him constantly tense, always looking over his shoulder to try an expect the unexpected.

Walking helped burn off some of that tension, gave him time to think and catch his breath. The cold and damp helped numb the feelings eating away at his inside. That's why he took off walking, despite the bitter cold and chaffing wind. There weren't many people on the streets; most everyone was bundled up in their houses, avoiding the short winter weather altogether.

That's why he was surprised to hear his own name being called from across the street. "Thornton!" John wasn't altogether pleased to see Mr. Bell waving him over, but he couldn't bring himself to ignore his beckoning. "Congratulations!" Mr. Bell said as John drew closer. "Fine work handling the boycott. I assume everything is back to normal, then?"

"It's a bit more complicated than that," John responded gruffly. "It will take some time."

Mr. Bell smiled a bit, before gesturing behind John. "Mr. Latimer! How nice to see you. You know the Latimers, don't you, John?"

John nodded as he turned to greet them. "Of course," he said, shaking Mr. Latimer's hand and nodding to his daughter, Annie.

Something on the other side of the street distracted Mr. Bell again as he called out, "Maggie!" He waved her over as well, much to John's dismay. Just seeing her knocked the breath out of him, looking so beautiful in a red peacoat that matched her rosy cheeks. The last thing he needed was to spend any significant amount of time in her presence, especially when he was trying to clear his head. "What luck," Mr. Bell said as Maggie reluctantly walked towards them. "Two of the loveliest girls in the city. You remember the Latimers, Maggie." She nodded while he reintroduced them, staunchly avoiding looking in John's direction.

The three younger people were obviously uncomfortable, though each for different reasons. John thought Maggie's face looked drawn and tired; he wondered if he looked the same. He probably looked worse, if he was being honest. His mother had been fussing over him lately, trying to make him eat and sleep more and work less. It was no use, he was determined to work himself into the ground.

"Where are you headed, Maggie?" Mr. Bell's voice cut off John's train of thought. He was glad for it; who knows how long he would have been staring at Maggie otherwise.

She still hadn't looked directly at him. It was hard to read her expression, though her voice seemed strained when she responded, "Nowhere."

"Oh, well. You can keep your secrets. Young women all have their own secrets, isn't that right?" Mr. Bell's jovial tone grated on John's already irritated nerves, making him want to lash out.

He needed to get out of there. "I wouldn't be the one to ask. Have a good one," he said curtly, walking about without another glance at Maggie. It wasn't the politest exit but was the best he could manage. Just being next to Maggie made his heart hurt, a deep aching pain that made it a struggle to breathe. The last thing he needed was for someone- Mr. Bell, Mr. Latimer, Annie- to catch on to his feelings, and John wasn't sure he could be subtle about it.

Unfortunately, Annie also used this moment to make her exit. She walked quietly beside him for a bit before speaking softly. "Strange to run into so many people on a day like today, isn't it?" John had just been thinking the same thing and told her so. She smiled brightly as her father caught up to them. "It was good to see you, though, John. Maybe we'll see each other again soon." He gave her a small smile in return as he waved goodbye while they parted ways.

Somehow, he ended up in the park. It was almost deserted, full of leafless trees and brown grass. The sights fit his mood perfectly, so he decided to sit on a bench and rest for a while. Going home wasn't an option at the moment; he didn't want to answer the questioning looks his mother was sure to throw his way. The wind pricked his eyes, bringing up unbidden tears. It was a good excuse, anyway. He closed his eyes and said a silent prayer, one without words but made of feelings.

_Maggie_

She was on her way to the park when she spotted John on the street. It was jarring to see him, his tall straight form unmistakable even from a distance. She kept her head down and tried to walk by without notice. Her plan was shot down by Mr. Bell calling out her name. It was too late to pretend she didn't notice them, so she had no choice but to make her way over to the small group. Annie's pinched face told her she wasn't too pleased about the interruption, and Maggie avoided looking at John completely, though she could feel his eyes on her.

"Nowhere." She could hear the strained tone of her voice in answer to Mr. Bell's question. It irritated her; she didn't want any of the emotions she was feeling to be broadcast to the strange collection of people around her, especially not John.

The terseness of John's farewell was also upsetting. She wondered what he was thinking. Was he still angry? She covertly watched him leave, his back as straight and tense as ever. His right hand clenched briefly into a fist before relaxing. Probably still angry, then, she thought. Jealously reared up inside her as she watched Annie walk away with him. Maggie had no right to be jealous, of course. She'd given up that right when she scoffed at the offering of his affection.

The rest of the group recovered from the awkwardness of John's departure. "What's the point of spending all this money on college if you're just going to have to spend more on a wedding once they graduate?" Mr. Latimer joked before moving to follow his daughter. Mr. Bell just laughed and bid him farewell as he walked away, leaving just the two of them on the sidewalk.

Mr. Bell's smile fell quickly when he noticed the grim look on his goddaughter's face. "My dear, what's wrong?" He asked with concern in his voice.

"Mr. Bell," Maggie said, pausing and trying to choose her words carefully. "I know you are my dad's friend, and I really appreciate everything you've done for him since we've moved…" She trailed off, unsure of how to finish her thought.

His smile returned, though far more rueful now. "But you wish I would mind my own business and stop being so goddamn facetious, right?" Maggie's own smile told him he was right. "You're right, love, and I will stop it immediately. But you know, I do care. If you ever need anything, any help at all, call me first, alright?"

"Absolutely, I promise." She smiled again as they said goodbye.

Finally alone again, Maggie was able to continue her walk to the park. She'd lost sight of John and the Latimers, assuming that they'd turned down another street at some point. She was heading through the park gate when she saw John sitting alone on a bench in the distance. Ducking behind a tree, her heart racing, she cursed quietly to herself. What were the odds? That very bench was where she had been heading. Had he seen her? She looked around the tree to see him sitting there, still as a statue.

Luckily, there were many trails through the park grounds, which she had thoroughly explored. She decided to take a roundabout route to the bench, curving around along the lake and through the trees. She hoped that he would be gone by the time she made it back around. How long could he possibly stay? John wasn't the kind of person to stay idle for long periods of time.

She was wrong. John was still sitting in exactly the same place as she quietly came down the path behind him. The black of his hair stood out starkly against the grey sky, which threatened rain at any moment. His cheeks and ears were red from the biting wind, eyes clenched tight against its onslaught. She was about to back away and find somewhere else to sit when he moved, breaking the stillness. He drew his feet up onto the bench, wrapping his arms around his knees like a child.

Maggie's heart ached as his shoulders shook. She knew it wasn't from the cold, though he didn't make a sound. She wanted nothing more than to sit next to him and hold him close, to take away the sadness that marked his every movement. But it was far too late for that. Instead, she turned and ran, not caring about being quiet anymore, unable to stand there and watch the man she had singlehandedly destroyed.

_John_

Rustling leaves broke through his misery, prompting him to stand and turn in the direction of the sound. A flash of red through the trees, gone before he could see who it was. "Maggie?" He whispered to himself. No, he knew that was ridiculous. It was probably some kid, playing hide and seek or tag with friends. Though kids weren't usually so sneaky. John considered chasing after the person, then thought better of it. He was in no condition to chase after anyone, breath still shaky and eyes still damp. _Let it go, Thornton_. He had other things to worry about, anyway.

Feeling slightly better after indulging his self-pity, John shook off any remaining tears and straightened his shoulders. Time to get back to work. There was a lot to do; William's concert was just a few weeks away, already sold out, of course. John needed to make sure he could ensure the safety of everyone there. He didn't think there would be any more violence, now that the boycott was over, but he couldn't be too careful. Calls for last minute bookings were coming in pretty regularly now, in addition to agents vying to get their clients added to the Excelsior lineup.

He should be happy; things were finally turning around. Instead, he still felt restless and tired. Any time he started to feel a little bit satisfied, thoughts of Maggie came up. No matter what he did, he couldn't shake the shadow she cast over his life. Even though Faith was pushing Annie Latimer on him as a viable alternative. She was an admittedly pretty girl. And judging from her actions today, she seemed interested in him, if he was being honest. But he had no romantic feelings for her, knowing she could never measure up to Maggie. It wouldn't be fair to lead her on when he knew nothing would ever come of it.

It was time to push such thoughts away and focus on the work at hand. With some effort he put both women out of his mind and sat down at his desk, eager to sink back into the oblivion of balancing The Mill's accounts. He worked late into the night, losing track of time until his mom appeared in the office doorway, telling him to call it a night and come home, she had a plate set aside for him from dinner.

_Maggie_

Mr. Hale was already home when Maggie returned, which was unusual. He had picked up a few extra students, mostly kids that he taught after they got off school. This meant he was often gone into the evening.

"You're home early," Maggie remarked as she took off her coat.

Her father looked a little down. "Oh, yeah, my last student canceled their appointment today. I was really looking forward to seeing John this evening, but he left a message saying he's afraid he won't be able to make our appointment, either." Mr. Hale was obviously disappointed by this turn of events.

Seeing her father's sad mood struck Maggie with guilt. She knew she was at least partly to blame for John's absence. "I think it's been a very busy week," she said, trying to make excuses both for her father and for her own benefit. "I'm sure John will pick back up when things quiet down."

"Sure, sure…" he trailed off. "Maybe I'll give him a call, give him some encouragement." Mr. Hale seemed satisfied with this, picking up the stack of mail next to his chair to sort through it. Maggie looked over his shoulder, curious. "Are you expecting a letter, Magpie?" Her father asked, noticing her unusual interest in the mail.

"Oh, no. I mean, yes." She gathered up the courage to tell him. "Dad, I've done something I probably shouldn't have. I wrote to Finn."

Her father turned to her with worry in his eyes. "Because of your mother? You think he needs to come to see her?"

Maggie nodded solemnly. She was surprised by her father's bluntness when he usually avoided the subject like the plague. "Please tell me I did the right thing. Is it really so dangerous?"

Sighing, Mr. Hale closed his eyes. "Yes, I'm afraid it is. The army doesn't take these things lightly, especially when there is a war going on. There will be harsh consequences if he's found. When did you send the letter?"

"A few days ago," She responded. "But everything happened so long ago…"

Her father shook his head sadly. "The army has very deep pockets and even better memories. They don't forget anything; it's as if it happened yesterday to them. Nothing but their version of justice will satisfy them."

"But his reasons were so noble! If only I hadn't written to him. What if I've asked him to come back only to be arrested? Mom would never make it through that." Maggie's heart wrenched with fear for her brother.

Patting her hand, Mr. Hale gave her a small smile of encouragement. "No, Magpie, you did the right thing. You did what you needed to for your mother's sake. I'm glad you didn't tell me sooner, I probably would have stopped you." This made her feel somewhat better, though she still worried later while she sat on her bed, struggling to write an email to Eden. There was so much she wanted to tell her, but she didn't even know how to begin. Maggie knew her cousin wouldn't understand most of what had happened in recent weeks; she didn't know the people here, had never met her friends. She closed her computer, deciding to run over to Nick and Becca's instead.

Nick opened the door. "Hey, I came to talk to Bec—" her words died on her lips when she saw Nick's face. His mouth was pulled into a frown and his eyes looked like he'd been crying.

He just shook his head and opened the door, motioning for her to come in. "Becca's gone." He said, voice emotionless, sinking onto the couch.

"Gone? What do you mean?" Maggie felt panic rising up in her throat.

Handing Maggie a tearstained letter that sat on the coffee table, Nick continued, "I don't exactly know. She went to the doctor again today, I guess, and when I got home she was gone. She left this letter, that's it."

Maggie quickly skimmed the letter, half listening to Nick's explanation. "She went to the doctor alone?" She regretted the accusation in her voice and hoped Nick didn't pick up on it.

"She didn't even tell me she had an appointment," he said defensively, before burying his head in his hands. "Things looked worse than they thought, initially. The letter says she couldn't bear to go through treatment again, not when the chances they would work were slim. We couldn't afford it, she said. It wasn't worth it. Why couldn't she tell me in person?" He broke down, sobs wracking his body as Maggie sat on the couch beside him.

> _I don't want to spend my last days sick and miserable from chemo. I can't in good conscience force my family into further debt to buy me useless time, delaying the inevitable. Y'all won't agree with this decision, I know, and we all know y'all would try to convince me to change my mind. And you would succeed. That's why I'm leaving now, while I'm still determined to go._

__

__

> _There are so many things I want to do while I still have the energy. I wish you could be with me, Nick. But we would be fighting about this the whole time, and you would win in the end. That's not what I want. I want to see the mountains, breathe in the fresh country air, dip my toes in the Pacific Ocean._

> _I'm sorry to put you through this. Just know that I'll be happy, and I want you to be happy, too. You've been the best big brother a girl could ask for. I just wish I could have been as good of a sister. Thank you for everything you've done for me, you and dad both. I'll be sending him his own letter._

"There's another letter with your name on it," Nick's broken voice pulled Maggie's attention away from the letter.

She took the envelope he held out, tears streaming down her face. "Thank you. I don't know if I can bear to read it right now."

Nick nodded with understanding, a fresh wave of sorrow breaking over his face. Maggie didn't want to leave him alone but couldn't think of anything to say that could possibly be of any comfort. So, she decided to go to the one person she could always count on to be there when she needed them. "Come back to my house with me. Maybe it will help to talk to someone."

He reluctantly followed her back to her car, wondering what she thought her family could possibly do to make this any better. But he didn't feel like being alone, knowing that sorrow would eat him alive. So he went with Maggie, wiping his eyes and trying to put on a brave face while they drove to her house.


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter 19** ****

_“One more point of contention_   
_I need some intervention_   
_Approached with vague intentions_   
_Betray my short attention_   
_Span the distance, bridge the border_   
_Beg forgiveness, round the corner"_

-Blink 182

**_Maggie_** ****

Nick seemed strange and out of place at her parent’s kitchen table, two parts of her life colliding. Maggie was well past the point in her life where her parents knew all of her friends; she knew they might not approve of many of them. Nick was a bit rough around the edges, tattoos on his arms and gauges in his ears. But Maggie’s dad took his appearance in stride, warmly welcoming him as a guest of Maggie’s.

“It sounds like she made this choice on her own, while she still had the will to choose,” Mr. Hale said after carefully listening to their story.

Leaning back with a sigh, Nick nodded. “Sometimes I wonder, was this how God intended things to be? I can’t believe it is. What’s the point, when the rich keep getting richer and the rest of us live on their scraps?” Maggie looked to her father with concern, worried about what he would say. Maggie’s family largely wasn’t religious, though they claimed to be Catholic when the topic came up. Mr. Hale much preferred the scholarly and artistic pursuits over religious ones.

There was silence for a moment while Mr. Hale thought this over. “Well, we have the ability to enjoy the world and try to find the best in others.”

“And some get to have more enjoyment than others, isn’t that right? There will always be someone who has and someone who doesn’t.” Nick stood up angrily.

Mr. Hale was quick to try and calm the larger man. “That’s not something we can control,” he said thoughtfully. “We can only control how we react and what we do with the circumstances we have. You see the world in terms of war and strife, and I am sorry for that. Yes, there is cruelty and hatred. But isn’t it better to try and find the good in the world? To try to find a way for everyone on all sides to work together peacefully? Don’t you think someone like… John Thornton would be open to such a pursuit?” Maggie cringed inwardly at the mention of John, knowing that Nick wouldn’t react kindly. She knew her father thought very highly of him, but John was a very contentious man in a lot of people’s minds.

Her prediction was correct. “Thornton?” Nick laughed in disbelief. “He’s the one that brought in them college kids to break the boycott. It’s his fault that we are in this mess in the first place. And now, just when we need him to be the bulldog that he is, to go against men like Butch that only want violence, he refuses to press charges and backs down! He says they’ll be shut out by the scene, that’s their punishment. I never knew he was such a coward.”

The words hit Maggie in the gut, making her wonder if she was partly to blame for John’s lack of action. If he pursued the ones who had joined the mob, she would likely be drug into the fray. That was something neither Maggie nor John wanted to happen. “John was right, Nick,” she heard herself saying, hardly believing the words. “It is much better just to let it drop, otherwise it will continually be in the news and John might come out looking vindictive.” As she said it, she realized it was true. John was a very thoughtful and conscientious businessman.

She saw the fight leave Nick as a fresh wave of pain came over him. “Becca always said the boycott was going to tear us apart. I guess she was right, all because of weak men like Butch.” He fell heavily into his chair, glancing up as if to clear tears from his eyes.

It hurt Maggie, seeing the normally stoic man in such a state. “Not everyone is as strong as you are, Nick. You kept up with the boycott for so long…”

“We all did,” he cut in. “People like us have to stick together. If we don’t, well, there are ways to make things happen.”

“What kind of ways?” She asked, thinking she had some idea of the answer.

Nick straightened up a bit, the subject being more firmly in his comfort zone. “Oh, you know, cast the person out of the scene, stop doing business with them, make them realize they made the wrong choice. Those sorts of things.”

He was so nonchalant about potentially ruining someone’s life, it made Maggie’s blood boil. “And here you talk about the tyranny of the owners, Nick,” she said, stopping herself before she said any of the other cruel and angry things that were fighting to come out of her mouth.

“Now wait just a minute,” Nick cried out, standing up quickly before taking a moment to gather his words. “I appreciate what a fine friend you’ve been to Becca through all this, but you’re not from here and you don’t know what you’re talking about.” He turned to Mr. Hale, addressing both of them, “Being part of this boycott, it was like being in a war. And just like in a war, there are some causalities. But it would be a crime to just sit around and do nothing.” With that, the conversation was over.

At least Nick had regained some of his fire during the visit. Maggie wasn’t quite so worried about him being alone, now. “Let me drive you home,” she said, walking with him to the door.

Shaking his head, Nick pulled on his coat. “No, the fresh air will do me some good. Help clear my head and all that.”

“Well, be careful then,” she said, pulling him into a hug before he could walk down the sidewalk.

Nick squeezed her tightly, whispering a soft “thank you,” as he let go. Another quick wave and he was gone.

There was another figure on the street that Maggie hadn’t noticed before. Scowling, John stood a few houses down, looking as if he had been on his way towards the Hale’s. She caught his eye but didn’t say anything, noticing the deep frown on his face as he abruptly turned and walked in the opposite direction.

**_John_** ****

A message on his answering machine waited for John when he got home. It was Mr. Hale, saying he had missed his lesson today and hoped that they would be able to resume in the near future. The message was kind and full of encouragement, making John feel guilty for allowing Maggie to ruin the friendship he had built with her father. None of this was Richard’s fault, and John decided to try harder to put his feelings aside.

Before John knew what he was doing, he had his jacket on and was walking towards the Hale’s. It was late, but Mr. Hale was known to be a night owl if he had something on his mind. John planned to stroll by, see if it looked like the lights in the music room were on, maybe knock quietly on the door. He had a sudden need to talk to someone, not about anything in particular, but just have real human contact.

He wasn’t expecting to see the door open and Maggie step out with Nick.  _What was he doing there?_  John wondered to himself. He didn’t think Maggie was that close with Nick for him to be hanging around at her house. He added that to the list of grievances Nick had committed against him, though the jealousy that swelled in his heart was completely irrational. The long hug goodbye Maggie and Nick shared didn’t help anything, either. John was frozen in place as he watched Nick finally leave.

The smart thing to do would have been to walk away before Maggie noticed him. But he didn’t, instead, he stood, angrily glaring as she turned and caught his eye. The open look of concern and sadness on her face made him more irate. All the plans of going to see Mr. Hale were blown to pieces. John forced himself to break their eye contact, to turn and make his way back home. He thought he could feel her gaze on his back; it took every ounce of willpower not to turn around and check.

Settling back into his office at home, John checked his emails. Sleep was out of the question at this point, though he was exhausted. Maybe some mind-numbing work would help him relax enough to get some rest. An email from Williams caught his eye.

_There’s a festival up north in a couple months, thought you might want to check out the competition. Plus, getting out of town for a few days would probably do you some good. When’s the last time you took a vacation? A public appearance would also drum up some good publicity for your festival._

_Think about it,_

_W._

His old friend had some good points. The media frenzy would be winding itself down by then and showing up at the festival would be a good chance to get things rolling again, maybe make some new contacts, scout some new talent. Plus, hadn’t Faith mentioned wanting to go up there? This was an opportunity to kill multiple birds with one stone.

Making up his mind, John sent Williams a quick email and started working on travel plans. He’d need to talk to his mom first and make sure Faith still wanted to go, but he didn’t think either of those things would be a problem. John himself was mildly excited about the prospect, so he knew Faith would be over the moon. Satisfied with this new turn of events, John was able to shut off his computer and fall into a dreamless sleep.

**_Maggie_ **

The cold snap didn’t last long; it was already getting warm again, just a few weeks after it began. Trees were starting to bloom in the park, though the weathermen said on the radio to expect another freeze before it was really spring.

Maggie was about to head out and take advantage of the warmth while it lasted when her mom called to her from the living room. “Your aunt called today, she had the best idea. The kids want you to come up for a visit. There’s that big music festival happening in a few weeks, and they invited you to come to stay. I know you would love it."

It was a festival Maggie had been to many times before. It was supposed to be a festival to welcome in spring, but more often than not it was freezing cold. Eden had said the lineup this year was going to be killer. She had been begging her to come ever since the lineup announcement, but Maggie had an excuse for every invitation. “I don’t want to be so far away from home right now, mom, not with your… you know, you might need me here.” It was a good excuse, and at least partially true. An easy out to avoid having to go back home and deal with the mess she’d left behind. To avoid seeing Henry for the first time since their breakup.

“I’ll be perfectly fine,” her mother was saying, bringing Maggie back to the current conversation. “Besides, if you went, you would be able to tell me all about everyone back home and how they’re doing. You know I would love to go visit myself…” she trailed off, giving Maggie a hopeful look, knowing she had won.

Sighing, Maggie nodded. “Okay, I’ll think about it.” She knew she’d end up going at this point, with everyone so set on her being there.

Mrs. Hale smiled to herself and sat back. “You’ve written to Finn, haven’t you?” She closed her eyes when Maggie nodded in response. “I’m almost afraid of him coming, now that it might happen. What if someone recognizes him or hears something, and he gets arrested? After all this time that he’s been safe.”

“We’ll be careful, I promise,” Maggie said, sitting next to her mother and patting her hand. “Besides, no one knows us- or him- here, they don’t care or notice what we do. Everything will be okay.”

This seemed to comfort Mrs. Hale considerably, and she brightened again. “I guess it is a good thing to be uprooted and friendly in this strange city,” she said, laughing a little.

Dixie chuckled, coming in from the kitchen, “I’m glad Maggie wrote, I had half a mind to do it myself if she didn’t.” Maggie hadn’t even been aware that Dixie was listening to their conversation but shrugged it off.

“And you’ll keep watch over things here while I’m gone, won't you, Dixie?” Maggie asked, knowing she would. If she was being pressured to leave her mother during such a difficult time, at least she knew there was someone here who would make sure everything went smoothly in her absence.

Just like that, the plans were made, and before she knew it, Maggie was on her way back to Boston to deal with whatever wreckage was left behind. Of course, Eden was ecstatic, already planning new ways to force her cousin and Henry back together where they belonged. The next few weeks flew by in a flurry of activity until suddenly, Maggie’s plane was landing, and she was wondering just what she was getting herself into.

**_John_ **

Of course, Faith was on board instantly with his plan, immediately gushing about all the things she wanted to do in Boston. His mother took a little more convincing, however.

“I just don’t think now is a good time to be going away,” she said at the breakfast table that morning. “Things are just now starting to get back to normal, you need to be here, not traipsing all over the country.”

John had already explained to his mother his reasoning, that it would be good for business in many ways. “I can take calls in Boston, mother. There’s nothing that I can do here that I can’t do there. I can take care of anything urgent over the phone, and anything else can wait a few days.”

Mrs. Thornton looked thoughtful at that, trying to think up another excuse to keep him from going. “How will you watch over Faith if you’ll be doing business the whole time? You can’t just leave her to her own devices.” She thought she had him with that one.

It was Faith who had a solution to that particular problem. “I know, I can bring a friend to keep me company! That way John won’t have to worry about me and I won’t be lonely. I’m sure Annie would love to come along!” John cringed inwardly at the thought of dragging Annie with them, but he had a feeling that his mother would agree with this solution.

“Hm, that’s actually not such a bad idea, Faith,” Mrs. Thornton said, thinking it over. Forcing John and Annie to spend a few days together wouldn’t be the worse thing that could happen. She was a fine girl, much more suitable for John than that northern devil he was still hung up on. Maybe spending more time with Annie would help him move on, show him there were other, better women out there. “Go talk to Annie, before we go any farther with these plans,” she told her daughter, dismissing her.

Faith ran off in a flash, knowing Annie would jump at the chance to spend some quality time with John. “Are you sure you can handle her on your own?” Mrs. Thornton asked, watching Faith race down the hallway.

“I think I’ll be able to manage,” John said, smiling, glad to be able to bring some light into his little sister’s life. This would be good for them, a chance to put all the chaos and drama behind them. As soon as Faith came back downstairs, confirming that Annie was able to come along, John started making the arrangements.

**_Maggie_ **

It was no surprise that Eden brought Henry with her to the airport. Why would it be? Maggie knew how her cousin worked, so she would have been shocked if Henry hadn’t been there waiving as she walked towards baggage claim.

“Max had to work late, and you know how I hate coming to the airport alone,” Eden said by way of explanation after they had hugged. Maggie did know, which made it the perfect excuse to bring Henry along. Maybe Max really did have to work late, and maybe Henry was the only person willing to come to the airport. But Maggie doubted it.

At least Henry looked contrite about the whole thing. He gave Maggie a sheepish smile, which she returned with a good-natured roll of her eyes. With that exchange, it seemed like everything that happened between was washed away, and they were easily able to fall back into their old, comfortable, ways. Eden watched with satisfaction as they hugged, noting that both of them held on just a moment past what was considered friendly.

Once in the car, Maggie decided to put everything in the past for now and enjoy her time back home. She deserved to have a nice time, after everything that had happened since moving to Atlanta. This would be a perfect opportunity to just let loose and forget about her problems down south.

Everyone welcomed her back with open arms, friends she hadn’t spoken to in ages suddenly wanting to hang out while she was in town. Her first few nights back were a blur of activity, bars, and parties blending into one another while she laughed and drank away her troubles. Maggie felt like she was in college again, on spring break, falling asleep where ever she landed at night and waking up in the bed in Eden’s spare room. Except, this time, she woke up alone. In college, that was not always the case.

The day before the festival, Maggie and Eden decided to relax and watch some movies. They kicked the guys out, planning a mini spa day doing their nails and spending quality cousin time. Eden was curious about her cousin’s life in Atlanta, particularly about what the men were like there, and if they really had charming southern accents like they did on TV. Maggie tried to answer her questions as best she could without giving anything away about a certain gentleman whose voice she couldn’t get out of her head.


	20. Chapter 20

**Chapter 20**

_“If it looks like I'm laughing_

_I'm really just asking to leave this alone_

_You're in time for the show_

_You're the one that I need_

_I'm the one that you loathe_

_You can watch me corrode_

_Like a beast in repose_

_'Cause I love all the poison away with the boys in the band”_

-My Chemical Romance

**_Maggie_ **

The festival was already crowded when they got there later the next day, packed with people everywhere they turned. “Ever since they lowered ticket prices, the crowds have been so much worse,” Eden complained, narrowly missing being plowed over by a rowdy frat boy that had obviously been pregaming before the shows.

“I think it’s great,” Maggie smiled, soaking in the excitement like a sponge. “It’s nice that more people are able to experience this,” she threw her arms open, almost hitting Henry in the process.

Eden’s fiancé, Max, laughed. “I have to say, Maggie, ever since I saw that news story about the music scene in Atlanta, I’ve been fascinated by the logistics and behind the scenes work that goes into a festival like this. I never thought about how much time and effort it takes to plan these things, not to mention money.” He turned to his brother, struck with a new idea. “Henry! Maybe we should buy a small venue, start a side business. Doesn’t that sound like a great investment?”

With a roll of his eyes at Maggie, Henry smiled indulgently at his brother. “I’m afraid that would be too much work for the likes of us, Max. Besides, we don’t need any more venues around here; there’s no shortage of shows to choose from. Unless you wanted to get really crazy with it and brave the heat of the south. I don’t know if your delicate constitution could handle the humidity. What do you think, Mags?”

Something across the field had caught her eye. “Yeah, it gets pretty humid,” she said distractedly, before wandering away.

Henry looked after her retreating figure with irritation, wondering what could have caught her attention so suddenly. Eden patted his arm consolingly. “You know how she is, Henry. Don’t worry, she’ll come around.” They lost sight of her in the crowd.

The familiar glimpse of a tall, dark head was all it took for Maggie to take off. She knew she was being ridiculous but couldn’t shake the feeling that she recognized the tilt of his head, the way he carried himself. As she drew closer she could hear the deep tones of his voice, which carried easily through the din of the crowd.

John stood surrounded by reporters and other businessmen. “It’s all well and good to reap the benefits of the industry,” he gestured around to the huge crowd of excited festival folk. “But it took months of hard work to get here. Most people don’t know the effort that goes into putting on these shows, keeping the music scene alive. We all love music and the experience, but for some reason, we’re always at odds with the workers and the fans.” He shrugged. “We’ve come so far, yet things never really change.” His smooth southern accent washed over her, a sharp contrast compared to the harsher northern voices she was already growing tired of during her short visit.

She saw him startle a bit when he noticed her, though he tried to hide it. “Maggie here can tell you the truth of it, how far we’ve fallen. How the owners only work towards profit with no thought to anyone else.” His eyes burned through her, daring her to contradict him.

“That’s not what I think at all. John would know that if he pulled his head out of his ass and paid attention for once.” Everyone in the small crowd looked uncomfortable as Maggie stalked away. John’s long legs caught up with her quickly; he grabbed her arm and turned her towards him.

“I thought I was paying attention before, but apparently I was mistaken.” His voice was low and tense with emotion barely restrained under the surface, eyes darker and stormier than she remembered.

**_John_ **

Though it was a spring festival, the weather was colder than he’d anticipated. Luckily, his mother had insisted on bringing one of his heavier coats, even though he’d rolled his eyes and told her to stop treating him like a child. John made a mental note to thank his mom for her forethought later. For now, he was comfortably warm as he walked with Faith and Annie to the festival grounds to meet Williams before things got started. Once the festival was in full swing, John knew he’d see little of his friend, who would be busy fighting off fans.

Williams met them at the gate and gave them their all-access passes, something that the girls screeched about for a good five minutes. Once they calmed down and everyone regained their hearing, Williams led the group around the festival grounds to show them around and give them a rundown of the schedule, so they could plan which acts they wanted to see. Williams was playing with his band late in the evening on one of the main stages.

It didn’t take long for the grounds to fill with people, the air buzzing with energy as they waited for the first band to kick things off. As expected, Williams was flooded with fans almost instantly, always with a crowd of people surrounding him. John imagined it must be exhausting to have to deal with that all the time. Surprisingly, a number of people recognized John as well, probably from the news stories about the boycott, so John had his own hands full discussing the events with curious reporters and other people in the industry. He had a lot to say on the subject and was pleased to see that these people were interested in what he had to say.

He was having a lively discussion with a fairly large group during a break between sets when he caught sight of her in the crowd, listening intently. He hadn’t expected her to be here, though it wasn’t entirely a surprise. John had just thought she wasn’t likely to leave town with her mother so sickly, so he hadn’t mentally prepared himself for the possibility of running into her here.

Her sudden appearance threw him off guard, making him lose his train of thought. “Maggie here can tell you the truth of it, how far we’ve fallen. How the owners only work towards profit with no thought to anyone else.” It wasn’t her fault at all, yet his words sounded harsh to his own ears as if he was punishing her for daring to exist.  _Not a good look, Thornton,_ he chastised himself as he chased her down, pride stinging from her equally angry retort.

As if she had anything to be angry about. He was the one who had laid his heart at her feet, only to have her trample on it. “I thought I was paying attention before, but apparently I was mistaken.” He forced himself to let go of her arm, otherwise, he might have pulled her closer and kissed her right then and there. There weren’t a lot of people that would willingly stand up to him, the powerful and intimidating businessman with a dubious family history. The fact that she met his fiery disposition with one of equal strength drove him wild.

**_Maggie_ **

Another familiar voice rang out in the crowd, catching both their attention. “Oh, Maggie, how nice to see you,” Faith said, a strained smile on her face.

Maggie was thankful for the interruption. “Faith! I see you’ve finally managed to make it to Boston.” She didn’t mean for it to sound sarcastic, but it came out that way.

Luckily, sarcasm usually flew over Faith’s head. “Mom said it was fine as long as John came along. And Annie, of course. Mom seems to think Annie and John will keep me out of trouble.” Maggie felt a sharp twinge of jealousy when she noticed Annie Latimer sidling up to John, standing closer than she felt was absolutely necessary.

Another tall figure joined the group; Henry, curious about who this vaguely familiar stranger was talking with Maggie. She motioned him closer. “Henry! You haven’t met John, have you? This is Henry Lennox.” She didn’t like the flash of satisfaction she got from the look of annoyance that crossed both men’s faces when they realized who the other was.

“Ah, yes, John Thornton. I believe I saw something about you on the news some months ago. You’ve come all the way from Atlanta, then?” Henry said as if it were some great distance, not minding that Maggie had traveled the same distance herself. John just nodded, not saying anything in response, regarding the other man with narrowed eyes. He must have heard the rumors of Henry and Maggie’s former relationship, then. She knew it was a big topic when she’d first moved down to Atlanta. For such a large city, the people sure did love their gossip.

Henry crossed his arms, eyeing John critically. “My brother was just discussing fiddling around in the music scene,” he said, waving his hand dismissively.

The tension was evident in John’s jaw, his already perfect posture straightening even further. “I don’t think I’d be much help there, then. I’m not sure I know how to fiddle.”

A small smirk twisted on Henry’s lips though he didn’t respond.

John looked as if he had made up his mind about something. “It’s time for us to go,” he said. “It’s all well and fine for y’all to enjoy this festival, but I have to go home and deal with my own.” He turned to walk off, not waiting for anyone to respond.

“Tell the Hales ‘hello’ for us,” Henry said quickly, causing the other man to turn back slowly. “I’m afraid Maggie has been enjoying her time back home so much that she hasn’t had time to talk with them. You should tell them how well she’s doing. She seems happier here, don’t you think, Thornton?”

If only the ground would open up and swallow her whole, then Maggie would be able to escape this tense and horribly awkward situation. Instead, she had to be content with staring daggers at Henry, wondering what game he was playing at. She'd never imagined a scenario where the two men would meet, but this was worse than anything her worst nightmares could have invented.

After directing a long, scorching look towards Henry, John finally turned away again with a terse “Goodbye.”

Maggie felt a strange panic in her chest at the thought of his leaving. She reached out to him, grabbing his forearm. He had rolled up his sleeves as the day got warmer, and his bare skin against her palm sent tingles up her arm. “Tell mom I’ll be home soon,” she said, knowing that it was ridiculous to ask since she could call her mom and tell her herself. “I have so many stories to tell her.” He paused briefly but didn’t turn and acknowledge her request before striding away. It felt like a stab through the heart.

**_John_ **

It was probably a good thing that Faith interrupted them at that moment. John could feel his control of the situation slipping; his sister’s appearance forced him to step back and gather his wits. He wasn’t really paying attention as they exchanged greetings but did notice that Annie scooched in close to him, their arms brushing as if she were marking her territory. Normally that would annoy him to no end, except this time he saw the quick jealous look that passed over Maggie’s face.  _That’s how it is, then,_ he thought with satisfaction.

That satisfaction was quickly replaced with his own jealousy at the appearance of another man. John didn’t recognize him, but the way he stood too close to Maggie told him that this man was no stranger. “This is Henry Lennox,” Maggie said. Right, about as far from a stranger as he could be, John thought with irritation.

Apparently, Henry knew more about John than John knew about him, a disadvantage that John felt keenly. He didn’t like the man’s condescending tone or his knowing smirk, or the way he stood next to Maggie as if she belonged to him. Though, maybe they were back together; why else would she be here, with him, after all? Maybe Maggie had told Henry all about how John proclaimed his feelings for her… No. The thought made him sick, and he didn’t think she was the type of person to spread other people’s business. That was heartening, at least.

“My brother was just discussing fiddling around in the music scene,” Henry said, the words adding fuel to the angry fire that was already blazing in John’s chest.

Williams was standing nearby, signing autographs and chatting with the group of fans that seemed to hand around him like a swarm of flies. He caught sight of John and the small group he was with, recognizing Maggie and noticing the way his best friend straightened in anger. This wasn’t good. Williams tried to quickly extricate himself from the crowd and put a stop to whatever fire was about to be unleashed. Not quick enough; even from the short distance, Williams could hear the familiar angry tone in John’s voice. “I don’t think I’d be much help there, then. I’m not sure I know how to fiddle.”

It took every ounce of self-control John had to not knock that smirk off Henry’s face. He needed to get out of here- not just the conversation, or the festival, but this city, this state. He didn’t belong here with these people, barely able to contain his volatile temper in civilized society. Coming here was a mistake.

“It’s time for us to go,” he said to Faith and Annie. “It’s all well and fine for y’all to enjoy this festival, but I have to go home and deal with my own,” this was directed at the rest of the group. He didn’t stop to see what effect his words had on anyone; in all likelihood, no one even cared.

That smarmy voice forced him to turn around.  “Tell the Hales ‘hello’ for us,” Henry called out, needing to have the last word. “I’m afraid Maggie has been enjoying her time back home so much that she hasn’t had time to talk with them. You should tell them how well she’s doing. She seems happier here, don’t you think, Thornton?” He wasn’t looking at John, but rather at the object of his statement.

John couldn’t bring himself to see Maggie’s reaction. She certainly didn’t deny Henry’s statement, gave no words to contradict him. It was like the knife he carried in his heart was twisted. The look of satisfaction in Henry’s eyes when he finally met his angry gaze was the final straw. “Goodbye,” he said, trying again to make his escape.

“Tell mom I’ll be home soon,” Maggie’s soft voice made him stop again, but he couldn’t look at her. If he did, she would see every emotion written on his face. “I have so many stories to tell her,” she said, sounding slightly frantic.

Williams had finally made his way to the group as John was leaving. He instantly recognized the thunderous expression on his friend’s face when Maggie made her strange request. The look worried him; it wasn’t often that the stoic, hardened soldier was overcome with emotion, but now John looked like he was losing his grip. A subtle shake of his head in response to Williams’ concerned expression and John stalked into the crowd.

**_Maggie_ **

Everyone watched as John disappeared into the crowd, each person with a different thought. Maggie noted that Annie’s face held concern and disappointment, though she wasn’t sure what the other girl had to be disappointed about. She was the one who would be flying home with him tonight.

“John is such a party pooper!” Faith stomped her foot in frustration before waltzing away, pulling Annie with her.

Shaking his head a little, Williams stepped next to Maggie, giving her a small, sad smile in greeting. “Poor John,” he said with a sigh, “it’s my fault. I convinced him to come up here thinking it would be good for him, help clear his head, listen to some good music, and scout some talent in the process. But instead, everyone just wants to talk about the boycott- nobody understands what it’s like back home, how hard he works.” Maggie could see the concern in Andy’s expression; he seemed truly worried about his friend.

Henry just couldn’t let that slide without voicing his opinion. “From what I’ve heard, most of the venue owners don’t really care about the music. It’s all about the money for them. So, I’m not surprised that Thornton isn’t appreciating the festival.”

His tone grated on Maggie’s nerves, forcing her to say something before Andy could respond to Henry’s jab. “No, you’re wrong,” she said, trying to keep her irritation from showing too clearly. The last thing she needed was for Henry to pick up on her feelings where John was concerned. “John takes piano lessons with my father. He loves any and all kinds of music. I’ve heard them talk about it during their lessons,” she finished lamely, trying to downplay just how much time John had spent with her family.

Williams watched this exchange with interest, noting how quickly Maggie stood up for John. He smiled to himself, pleased, thinking that maybe she wasn’t so indifferent as his old friend seemed to think she was. That was a thought he would keep to himself for now, though. No need to get John’s hopes up before he knew for sure. It was definitely something he would keep an eye on.

Looking at her watch, Maggie suddenly realized how late it was getting. “Don’t you have somewhere important to be, Andy?” She said, raising her eyebrows at the musician.

“Oh shit,” he said, glancing at his own watch. “Jesus, you’re right. Thanks, Mags!” He called out over his shoulder, giving her a quick salute as he took off at a jog towards the main stage. She smiled, watching the crowd that gathered near the stage in anticipation for the next band to come out. Maggie was looking forward to seeing Williams band play. It was a shame that John had decided to leave before his best friend’s set. She had the distinct feeling that it was at least partly her fault, too.

 

 


	21. Chapter 21

_“I left my heart with my phone in my center console._

_I left my feelings with my wallet and my keys_

_I feel so stupid because I came here without anything_

_But I’m finally at ease”_

-Man Overboard

**_Hannah_ **

There were many places Hannah Thornton would have preferred to spend her afternoon. The Hale’s bedroom was nowhere on the list. How she ended up here was still somewhat of a blur, but there she was, sitting in the chair next to the Hale’s bed. In the bed was Mrs. Hale, looking as sick as anyone she had ever seen. Hannah, who had not known the woman’s condition was so deteriorated, was shocked at her appearance. Gaunt and weary, Mrs. Hale struggled to smile when Mrs. Thornton entered the room.

“I’m worried about Maggie, what will happen to her when I am gone,” she began as if picking up a conversation where they left off. “I don’t think I have much longer in this world,” she coughed, struggling to regain her breath, making Mrs. Thornton anxious that the sickly woman would choose that moment to make her earthly exit. Thankfully, she took a shuddering breath and continued. “I wanted to ask you to look after her, Maggie that is, after I die. Our friend Dixie is here, for now, of course, but my own sister lives up north and is out of the country often… Maggie needs a strong woman to guide her.”

She paused, looking expectantly at Mrs. Thornton, waiting for her response. “I’m not sure…” Hannah peered around, trying to find a way out of this situation. “Your daughter is clearly her own person, makes her own decisions. I’m sure nothing I could say would ever change her mind.” She was irritated to be put on the spot in such a way. “I’m surprised she’s not here, with you being so sick and all,” she said, raising her nose in judgment of what she perceived as another failing of the girl.

Mrs. Hale sighed mournfully. “I made her go,” she said, shaking her head. “I was feeling better, I thought… I just want you to be a friend to Maggie, after everything.”

A friend, indeed. As if such a haughty girl would even appreciate friendship from Mrs. Thornton. She probably thought herself too good for such company. “I’m afraid I’m not the most affectionate person, even to my own children,” she said aloud, noting Mrs. Hale’s downcast look, “but, if Maggie ever asked me for help, or if I saw her making some mistake or doing something I thought was wrong…”

“Oh, but Maggie is such a sweet girl, she would never do anything wrong,” Mrs. Hale interrupted with more spirit than Hannah thought was in her.

Hannah decided to let that slide. “I will counsel and direct her as I would my own daughter, I promise.” She wasn’t sure that would be enough, but thankfully Mrs. Hale accepted that answer. Or maybe she was just growing weary from the conversation.

Leaning back against her pillow, Mrs. Hale sighed and closed her eyes. “I am grateful for your assurance, and I appreciate your willingness to be kind to Maggie. Thank you.” Hannah wasn’t sure what to say to that, so she just nodded before leaving the room quietly, hoping those weren’t the last words Mrs. Hale would ever speak.

**_Maggie_ **

The chair next to her parents’ bed became her new home. Maggie felt as if she had barely left it since arriving back in Atlanta. Her mother seemed like a different person than the one she had left just weeks before, someone she barely even recognized. Mr. Hale had taken her to the ER one night, early on in Maggie’s absence.

“Why didn’t you call me?” She’d asked, “I would have come home right away.”

Her father just shook his head. He had wanted Maggie to enjoy her trip without being burdened by the news. “It wouldn’t have changed anything. There’s nothing you could have done.” That’s what the doctors at the hospital had told him after all the scans and tests were run. There was nothing left to be done. So, they sent her home to spend the last of her days with her family. There was a special hospice nurse that came often, one that was on hand when needed, to help keep Maria comfortable through the end.

Dixie laid her hand on Maggie’s shoulder, jolting her awake in the chair where she had dozed off. “I never should have left, Dixie,” Maggie said for the thousandth time, tears welling in her eyes.

“She wanted you to go. She was glad you were able to have a nice time without worrying about her. This all happened very suddenly.” They were the same words of reassurance that Dixie had said many times before, but they still didn’t bring the comfort Maggie needed.

A knock on the door pulled their attention. “Who would be visiting at this hour?” Dixie huffed, glancing at the clock and noticing that it was getting quite late. “I’ll go get your father.”

“No,” Maggie said quickly, getting up and stretching against the painful stiffness in her joints. “I’ll get it. Don’t bother dad.” She hobbled down the stairs, wiping the sleep from her eyes as she opened the door a crack, ready to close it in an instant if needed.

The shadowy figure on the stoop spoke. “Is Mr. Hale here?” It was a voice Maggie would recognize anywhere, one she hadn’t heard in years.

Quickly releasing the security chain on the door, she threw it open wide and pulled the figure inside. “Finn? Oh my god, you’re here. Finn!” Maggie pulled her brother into a tight hug, squeezing to make sure he was real.

“Mom?” He asked quietly, noting the hint of sadness etched around his sister’s eyes, behind the obvious joy of seeing him.

Maggie smiled sadly. “She’s alive. She’s as sick as she could be but she’s still with us.”

“Thank god,” he said, taking off his coat and hat, hanging them by the door.

Maggie took her brother’s bag and started to lead him into the hallway. “Dad is probably…”

“You did know I would come, didn’t you?” Finn cut her off, uncertainty in his voice.

She stopped and looked up at him, the face she had once knew so well now marred by age and anxiety. “Of course, Finn. But we haven’t heard anything back from you!”

Nodding, Finn relaxed a bit. “I thought it would be safer to come without announcing it, just in case.”

“Sure, that makes sense. I just didn’t think it would be so soon.” She smiled, hardly believing that he was really there, in the flesh.

They were interrupted by Mr. Hale, calling down the hall from his music room. “Magpie? Did I hear the door or am imagining things?” He poked his head through the doorway, squinting in the dim light to see who was standing with Maggie. Walking slowly down the hall, he shook his head as if he could hardly believe his eyes. “Finn! You’ve finally come back to us!”

**_John_ **

News of Mrs. Hale’s turn for the worse worried John. He was concerned for his friend, on the brink of losing his wife of so many years. He was also worried about Maggie; the loss of her mother would be hard for her, he knew, remember how much he missed his own father. John knew how difficult it was to lose a parent. It pained him to know that he couldn’t be there for her during this trying time. She wouldn’t want his sympathy.

He couldn’t bring himself to abandon Mr. Hale, though, who had been so kind and good to him. So, John decided to bring a small care package that he hoped would brighten their day a little, while also giving him the excuse to check in on them.

His hands shook a bit as he knocked on their door, the only outward sign of his nervousness. It was silly, to be so anxious when he was just trying to be a good friend to Mr. Hale. He had stood on this porch and knocked on this door countless times. Still, the very thought of seeing Maggie made his heart race, no matter the circumstances.

The door opened, revealing the subject of his thoughts, who stepped out onto the porch, closing the door behind her. “Hello, Maggie,” he said coolly, realizing quickly that she had no intention of inviting him in.

“John…” She looked nervous, not quite meeting his gaze.

He held out the basket he’d painstakingly prepared, full of the snacks and treats he knew Maggie and her family enjoyed. “I just came by to bring this, just a small care package to help your family through this difficult time.” His words sounded stiff to his own ears, the opposite of the feelings waging war in his heart.

Maggie’s attention was pulled to someone coming up the sidewalk behind John. “Mary! I’m glad you’re here. Could you take this inside and put it in the kitchen?” She said to the newcomer, taking the basket from John and handing it to her. John recognized the young woman, a hospice nurse that Nick had an on-again off-again relationship with.

“Excuse me, I thought I’d still be welcome here despite our… well, despite everything that’s happened. At least as your father’s friend, if nothing else.” He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, both irritated and embarrassed.

Stepping closer, Maggie spoke kindly, “You are welcome, John, it’s just…” she seemed to struggle to come up with a good enough excuse.

John had been looking through the now-open doorway, eyeing an unfamiliar coat and hat on the hooks by the door. “Sorry, I didn’t realize you had company already,” he said, thinking that might explain her coldness and shifty behavior. He turned to leave, not wanting to disturb the family any further.

“No! No, it’s just us, we don’t have anyone else here!” Maggie said quickly, stopping him before he could leave the porch. John looked at her, surprised at her sudden energy, then frowned when he heard laughter coming from the back of the house. It wasn’t the familiar sound of Mr. Hale’s soft laugh but was definitely masculine. There wasn’t any doubt that someone else was inside that house, whether Maggie wanted him to know it or not.

He shook his head, turning again to leave. “Goodbye, Maggie,” he said shortly.

“John, please,” she called after him. “My mom is very sick. This isn’t what it looks like. Please, believe me, this has nothing to do with you and you are welcome…” Maggie trailed off, realizing that he wasn’t going to turn around. John strode angrily down the street, refusing to look back and let Maggie see how upset he was.

**_Maggie_ **

They were sitting in the music room, reminiscing and letting Mrs. Hale rest when there was a knock on the door. “That must be the nurse, Mary,” Maggie said, getting up to let her in. Her mother’s hospice nurse was a kind and quiet sort of person, someone the whole family had decided they needed to trust. The kind of person who helps others die with dignity isn’t the kind who would cause problems for a grieving family.

That was all well and good, except it wasn’t Mary at the door. Maggie was thoroughly startled when she opened the door only to see John standing on the porch. She quickly stepped out, closing the door behind her, worried he would hear or see something related to Finn. John noticed this, of course, his expression changing quickly. He was holding a basket and was in the process of trying to hand it to her when Mary came up the sidewalk.

Perfect timing, Maggie thought, hoping the nurse’s appearance would signal to John that he needed to leave. She handed the basket to Mary before turning back to John to thank him and tell him goodbye. The look on his face stopped her, though, his hurt expression pulling at her heart. She wanted to reassure him, to let him know it didn’t have anything to do with him, but couldn’t come up with a good reason to keep him out of the house.

He visibly relaxed when he noticed Finn’s hat and coat by the door. “Sorry, I didn’t realize you had company already,” he said. His words made Maggie panic, the mere hint of Finn’s existence setting off alarm bells in her head. What if he figured out who was visiting? What if someone else found out? If anything happened to Finn, it would be all her fault.

“No! No, it’s just us, we don’t have anyone else here!” She sounded as frantic as she felt, cursing to herself at how obvious she was being, making things worse. Finn’s laughter spilled out the door at that moment, making it all the more apparent that Maggie was lying. She wanted to kick herself for being such an idiot.

John’s stony expression told her all she needed to know about his feelings. She’d really messed things up this time. She called out to his retreating figure, trying to explain, to say something that would make things better, but he didn’t turn around. She watched him go, dread building in her stomach as she thought over their brief exchange.  _I thought I’d still be welcome here_ … He had put aside whatever feelings of embarrassment he had about the whole situation and tried to be a good friend to her father. Knowing him, that was probably very difficult. And here she was, making him feel unwelcome and unwanted. The truth was, he wasn’t unwanted at all. He was wanted very, very much. She had just realized it too late.

Taking a deep breath, Maggie walked back into the house, pushing down those thoughts as best she could. She went to the kitchen and picked up the basket John had brought, amazed that he had remembered which snacks she and her family preferred. She carried it into the music room to share with her brother.

“Who was that at the door? The roadie dad has told me all about?” Finn asked, picking out some candy from the basket.

Maggie sat down heavily on the piano bench. “John? He’s one of the venue owners.”

Shrugging, Finn took a bite of his chocolate bar. “Roadie, club owner, what’s the difference? What was dad thinking, bringing you down here, forcing you to associate with these people…” he trailed off when he saw his sister shaking her head firmly.

She didn’t like the way he was talking about people he knew nothing about. “John is… he’s a gentleman, Finn. And he’s been very kind to us,” she said, putting a stop to his rant.

“I’m sorry,” he sighed, slouching into his chair, “Who am I to talk, anyway? After I’ve been absent all these years, neglecting my family. You don’t know how hard it is to not be able to thank the people who have helped you. That our lives must always be separate unless I risk going to jail.” He sat up and smiled a bit. “Or, you could come to Mexico. You know, I have a good job, and… well…”

Maggie smiled at her normally confident brother looking embarrassed. “And?” she said, teasing him.

“You know, the girl I wrote to you about. Delores? Oh, if you could only meet her, Mags. You would love her! Mom and dad would, too.” He looked so happy talking about her, that Maggie couldn’t help but be happy with him. She was glad he found someone to make him smile like that. The feeling didn’t last, though; Dixie had slipped into the room, waiting for them to finish talking, a somber look on her face. The siblings knew instantly what it meant. It was time.

**_John_ **

It was hard to find a bar where no one would recognize him and bother him. All his usual places were out of the question; they either hated him for the boycott or everyone wanted to congratulate him for it. He didn’t want to deal with any of that at the moment. So, he picked a dark one, hoping that he’d get lucky and could slip in unnoticed to brood for a bit.

Luck was not on his side, however. He was nursing his second scotch, slouched in a corner booth, lost in thought when someone slid into the booth across from him. The interruption irritated him, and he looked up ready to snap at whoever presumed to invade his space. His threat was cut short when he looked up and noticed who it was.

“Mason! Lord, how long has it been?” It was one of his old army buddies, one he hadn’t seen in years.

Smiling, Mason reached across to shake hands with his old friend. “It’s good to see you, Thornton. Though I feel like I’ve seen a lot of you, on the news and all that.” Mason was a small man, with almost elvish features. Early in their deployment overseas, everyone had underestimated him, but he had managed to prove himself a capable soldier on many occasions.

John sighed a bit in response. “Yeah, I’ll be glad to put all that business behind me. How’ve you been, Mason? I didn’t know you were back in town.”

“Eh, I haven’t been too shabby. Spent some time in the suburbs, living the quiet life. I’ve recently accepted a detective’s position here in the city, though. I was getting tired of the small-town problems, they seem so insignificant, comparatively speaking.” John remembered that Mason had joined the police force after his enlistment was up, which wasn’t uncommon for former soldiers. John himself had considered it but decided not to put his mom through any more stress. Being a policeman in Atlanta wasn’t the safest job out there. Plus, he already had enough enemies.

Caught up in his own thoughts, John realized he hadn’t responded to Mason. “Well, it’s good to see you.”

Mason studied him for a moment. “What’s got you so down, Thornton? Shouldn’t you be happy, breaking down the boycott, everyone on your side now?” He asked, noticing the telltale signs of a brooding John.

Shrugging sheepishly, John gave him a crooked smile. “It’s ridiculous; I’m ridiculous. It’s nothing, really.”

“Can’t be nothing if you’re drinking scotch alone in a bar on a weekday,” Mason responded, catching a waiter’s eye and motioning for two more drinks. “Why don’t you tell me about it?”

So, John did. He told him about Maggie, about her parents, about the riot and everything that they said to each other afterward. It felt good to get it all out there, to talk about it with someone outside the situation. Mason didn’t have any answers, didn’t offer any solutions, but just listened to John talk, nodding sympathetically and asking a question here or there. By the time they were done, John felt a lot better than he did before, whether it was from the scotch or the conversation, he wasn’t sure. But he left the bar with a more positive attitude than he entered with, thankful to have a friend who was willing to listen to him whine.


	22. Chapter 22

_“Cause in my head there’s a greyhound station_

_Where I send my thoughts to far off destinations_

_So they may have a chance of finding a place_

_where they’re far more suited than here”_

-Death Cab for Cutie

_**Maggie** _

She wasn’t fully prepared for this moment, even though she’d witnessed her mother’s steady decline over the last months. No child was ever prepared for the death of their parent. Finn was even more caught off guard. When he’d left home, his mother was young and vibrant, a brightness in his memory that kept him warm during the hard nights overseas. But now, suddenly, he was faced with the shell of the woman who had loved and raised him. It shook him to his core, pulling out emotions that he’d locked away for years.

There was nothing to be done except try to make these last minutes comfortable. Mary was a blessing, a woman with kindness and training to make the transition easier. The transfer from life to death was never an easy one, but Mary made it less difficult. And when Maria Hale was gone, at last, resting peacefully in that eternal sleep, Mary was able to help the family with the final arrangements.

Maria Hale died surrounded by the people she loved most; her children, her husband, and Dixie, her oldest friend. She did not die in the place she loved most, but in a place she merely tolerated, one she didn’t get to experience to the full. Her son mourned that he hadn’t come sooner, or that he had left at all. Her daughter was saddened that her mother would never see her children grown and settled as she had always wanted. Her husband regretted bringing her to this godforsaken place, believing himself to be the cause of her death. And her friend, she too blamed Mr. Hale for the death of her best friend.

Now that the business of dying was over, Maggie was most concerned about her brother. How they were going to get him back out of the country, to make sure no one saw him or recognized him. That was why, when Dixie came back from the store with a disturbing story, Maggie’s anxiety was kicked into overdrive.

“I’m not sure how he recognized me so quickly, but I was just minding my own business when out of nowhere I heard someone calling my name,” Dixie said, sitting in the kitchen and wringing her hands. “If I had my wits about me, I wouldn’t have responded. Then I could have played it off as if he had the wrong person.”

Maggie was gnawing on her lip, thinking hard. “And you’re sure he knows about Finn?” She asked again, though Dixie had already explained the encounter several times.

Sighing, Dixie nodded. “It was a big story back home, in all the local newspapers. He asked specifically about your family. I don’t think he bought my lie about visiting my sister.” She stood up and started bustling around the kitchen. “He said he’s engaged to a girl down here, some kind of fitness coach, one that works with some of the prominent families. I’m sure he’s got his ear to the ground for gossip. Always was up to no good, that Leonard.” She shook her head sadly, trying not to show how scared she really was.

Turning around, Maggie appeared to have made a decision. “That settles it. Finn has to go. Before the funeral. Has dad decided on any arrangements?”

“Mr. Bell is coming to help him get everything settled,” Dixie responded with a hint of disdain.

Maggie nodded absently, already a million miles away planning her brother’s escape. “Of course, Mr. Bell. But Finn needs to leave before he gets here. No one else needs to know he was ever here.” She pushed off the window sill and went to talk to her brother.

_**John** _

Now that it was getting warmer, he’d started walking more when he couldn’t sleep. It wasn’t the safest practice, but John had stopped caring too much about his own safety over the past few months. It was a cloudless night, with a bright moon that made it almost seem like daytime, but late enough that there were few people on the streets. The news of Mrs. Hale’s death had put out all thoughts of sleep, so John had wandered through the city, making it a good distance from home.

It was complete chance that he walked past the Greyhound station that night. It was an area he usually avoided since it tended to host a group of unsavory characters. But that night, he wasn’t paying attention to where he was going, and the greyhound station stood looming and deserted in front of him.

Well, mostly deserted. He noticed two people hugging under the awning. What circumstances had brought them here, to be embracing at a greyhound station at one in the morning, he wondered. Something about the two made him look closer until he couldn’t look away.

There was no denying it. _Maggie._ He would recognize her anywhere. The man she was hugging didn’t seem familiar, though. John stood there watching them, running through any scenario that could make this make sense besides the most obvious one. Every thought still came up blank. There was no real reason for a young woman to be out with a man at a Greyhound station this late at night unless she was hiding something. And what she was hiding seemed very apparent to John.

No wonder she had spurned his advances. There was someone else in her life, someone she had wanted to keep secret. But why? John couldn’t work it out. He realized he had been staring far too long at the couple and was about to look away when Maggie caught his eye, looking like a deer in the headlights. He couldn’t help but scowl a bit, the pain in chest doubling at her concerned look. The man she was with turned around too, glancing at John before looking with worry back at Maggie.

He couldn’t take it anymore. By the time Maggie and the man looked back towards John, he was walking away. He knew there would be no explanation coming, not that he thought he was owed one. If nothing else, maybe this incident would cure him of his love for her once and for all, though he doubted that would be the case.

Sleep was far less likely now, but John went home anyway. He’d always known roaming the streets at night wasn’t the best idea; now he knew for sure. That wasn’t the kind of misfortune he had expected would befall him on the streets, it was so much worse. Better to put on some music and hope it would lull him into sleep than find any more secrets hidden under the cover of night.

_**Maggie** _

Finn wasn’t pleased with this new turn of events. “I wish I had met this Leonard person. It’s not fair that I have to run and hide before the funeral. Maybe I should just stay and face the consequences,” he said, pacing the music room.

“Absolutely not,” their father said sternly, putting a stop to that line of thinking. “You have to go, Finn.”

The younger man shook his head and sunk onto the ottoman. “If only there was a way to defend myself. If I could get them to understand why I left, if people only knew,” he stopped, knowing it was useless.

Mr. Hale smiled kindly at his tender-hearted son. “You’re young, Finn. You think there is justice in this world when there is none.”

“Finn has never tried to plead his case, though,” Maggie said, desperately wanting a way for her brother to both stay and be safe from the law.

“How can I?” Finn said with an air of hopelessness. “Who would listen to me, a deserter, a coward?”

The rest of his family hated to hear him talk like that about himself. “What about a lawyer?” Maggie said, sitting up as an idea came to her. “I know a lawyer who I think we could trust, one that I think would be willing to help us. Henry. What do you think?”

Finn looked thoughtful. “Henry Lennox? Your ex? Do you think he would be alright?

She nodded, the wheels already turning in her head. “I do. I could call him and give him the details, maybe you could write to him, too and give him your side. He could at least tell us if there’s anything else we can do.”

“Talk to Henry if you want,” Mr. Hale said grimly, “but Finn still needs to leave as soon as possible. He can contact Henry when he is safely back in Mexico.”

The siblings nodded in agreement before changing the subject back to Finn’s travel plans. “You have your fake ID, right?” She asked her brother, double-checking that everything was in place for his trip.

Finn pulled the forged document out of his pocket. He had used it on the trip to Atlanta with no issues, and the plan was to use it again on the return trip. “Good,” Maggie said, “The bus leaves after midnight, so there shouldn’t be too many people around at that time. Hopefully, you can cross back into Mexico the same way you came over.” It shouldn’t be a problem, thousands of people crossed the border every day, legally and illegally.

She went with her brother to the greyhound station, more for her own peace of mind than for his safety. She had the feeling this may be the last time she saw her brother and wanted to spend as much time with him as possible. They were waiting on Finn’s bus when she felt someone watching them.

Looking up, her blood ran cold at the icy stare that caught her eye. They both stood frozen for a moment before he scowled. Finn noticed her distraction and looked to see what was so interesting. The man was vaguely familiar to him; Finn wondered if he was a threat to his family or his freedom. Maggie didn’t seem overly alarmed, though her face was etched with a sense of sadness and worry that reached further than he had realized before.

“Who was that?” Finn asked his sister in a soft whisper, even though the man was far outside of hearing range.

Maggie sighed and shook her head as if clearing cobwebs. “John, John Thornton.” Just saying his name made her heartache in a way that didn’t make sense.

Headlights came around the corner, making their way towards the bus station. “What a scowl he had. He’s not the friendliest person in the world, I’m sure.” Finn said, looking anxiously at the approaching bus, realizing his time with his sister was almost up.

“No, Finn. I think something has happened to make him so angry. Don’t be so hard on him.” She didn’t know why she was wasting her last moments with her brother defending John, but there she was. The bus came to a stop and the doors opened slowly. Maggie turned and gave her brother a long hug. “You’ll write as soon as you get home, won't you?”

Fin began to respond but was interrupted by a drunken call. “Hale?” The man attached to the voice stumbled out of the shadows and towards the siblings. “It is you, ain't it? I knew it was.” Even though he was wavering, near falling over, the man-made slow progress towards Maggie and Finn.

Stepping back towards the bus, Finn pushed his sister behind him and out of the man’s way. “No, you’ve got the wrong person.” He looked frantically at Maggie, not wanting to leave her alone with this very drunk Leonard.

“Eh, who is this with you then?” The drunk man reached around to grab at Maggie, who pulled away in disgust. The next moments were a blur in her mind, but the end result was Leonard on the ground and Finn safely on the bus, headed back to Mexico.

**_John_ **

Mrs. Hale’s funeral was a sparse affair. John was disappointed to see that more of Mr. Hale’s students and their families hadn’t shown up, thought funerals were always a touchy subject. Nick was there, of course, with the hospice nurse. And Mr. Bell, too, always there for his old friend. Maggie was the very picture of poise and control. She seemed to be holding it together remarkably well. The same could not be said for Mr. Hale, who was the broken shell of a man that had lost his lifelong companion. John’s heart ached for the old man and his daughter.

Standing outside in the early spring rain, John watched Maggie and her father greeting the few mourners that had come. Mr. Bell sidled up to John, taking note of the object of his attention. “How are they holding up? Maggie and Richard?” John asked, seeing how hollow Mr. Hale seemed on his daughter’s arm.

“As well as you could expect, I guess,” Mr. Bell responded grimly, giving John an appraising look out of the corner of his eye. “Don’t worry, Thornton, they have plenty of friends to look out for them.”

John kept his eyes on the Hales, not noticing Mr. Bell’s watchful gaze. “Well, let me know if there is anything I can do to help,” he said, turning towards the older man, the sadness plain on his face.

Never one to remain solemn for long, Mr. Bell gave John a quick smile. “Everything is taken care of, my friend. Not the best turn out, if we’re honest, but with Maggie’s aunt traveling and unable to get home, and her cousin being too busy to come down… well, I am surprised that the other Lennox boy didn’t come, at least.” Mr. Bell continued his close examination of John, noting the stiffening of his already perfect posture at the other man’s name.

“Henry Lennox,” Mr. Bell said in response to John’s sharp look, “He’s a lawyer and a friend of the family. He and Maggie are quite close, from what I understand. You’d think he would want to be here to support her since it would help his case.” The shadow that came over John’s face certainly didn’t escape Mr. Bell’s notice. The older man filed that information away quietly in his mind. “But I’ll be sure to let you know if your assistance is needed, anyway.”

With a small, possibly sarcastic salute, Mr. Bell was on his way down the street towards his car. John was about to start heading home himself when he heard someone calling his name. Turning towards the sound, he saw Mason making his way towards him. “Haven’t seen each other in years and now it’s twice in one week,” he said, smiling a little as the detective came closer. He looked a bit more professional than he had in the bar, wearing a well-fitting suit and trench coat to fend off the rain.

Mason smiled back but immediately turned solemn. “I was actually going to call you later but happened to see you as I was passing by. Sorry to catch you at such an unfortunate time,” he said, noting the black attire of everyone around and the church in the background. “I’m actually on my way to investigate a body found not far from here. We’ll catch up later, then?”

Seeing his mother watching from under the church awning, John nodded. “Sure thing. Let me know if I can help the investigation. You know I live not too far from here, so maybe I’ve seen or heard something.” He waved as Mason continued down the road then turned to help his mother to the car.

_**Maggie** _

The house was too quiet and somber without her mother there. Dixie and her father were still there, of course, but neither of them was their normal, lively, selves. Maggie suggested that her father come with her to visit Nick, hoping that getting out of the house would do him some good. The company would do Nick some good, too, she knew. He had seemed down ever since Becca had left.

She was surprised but glad to see Mary was at Nick’s place, cleaning up the kitchen. She smiled at the Hale’s but left them alone to talk to Nick, also hoping that the company of friends would help cheer him up. Maggie and her father settled into the couch while Nick grabbed them a drink.

“We were hoping to find you at home,” Mr. Hale said, gratefully accepting the sweet tea that was handed to him.

Nick snorted, sitting down in a chair across from them. “I reckon you’ll find me at home most of the time, these days,” he said grimly.

Maggie frowned, leaning forward. “You still haven’t found work after the boycott?” She asked.

Shaking his head, Nick sighed and leaned back in his chair. “Nah, I could find work, just not work that I’m willing to take.”

“What do you mean? I would think any job is better than no job at all?” Maggie asked, confused.

She could see Mary in the kitchen, shaking her head. “Well, there’s plenty of ones that would hire me. They know I’m a hard worker,” Nick said. “But too many of them have these news rules when you sign on, saying that we have to promise not to speak out against the venue owners or the ticket sellers. That we can’t support any kind of reformation of the industry, basically saying we should just be glad to have jobs and keep our mouths shut.” He shook his head angrily. “They’re trying to punish us for having our own thoughts and morals. I’m not willing to compromise like that, not for anyone. I mean, you’ve had bosses haven’t you, Mr. Hale?”

Maggie’s father looked confused at his sudden inclusion in the conversation. “Well, yes, of course.”

“And have any of those bosses ever tried to tell you what to think and what to believe in?” Nick asked the older man, knowing the answer

He seemed to get the point. “No, they haven’t. Certainly not.”

Maggie thought she understood, as well. “Do all the venue owners have this new rule? I remember Butch said he thought the boycotters were the tyrants, not the owners.” She said, thinking of one businessman in particular.

A dark chuckle erupted from Nick’s grim mouth. “Well, sometimes we have to make others see what’ll be best for them in the end. Butch was an idiot. He didn’t know what was good for him,” he said, getting up and walking into the kitchen.

Getting up to follow him, Maggie asked, “So he did damage to the boycott, then?” She hadn’t realized until that moment that she wanted to get Nick’s opinion on the riot and see what all he had heard.

“Yes! We had the public on our side until they started rioting and breaking the law.” He gave Maggie a knowing look but didn’t say anything further about that day at Thornton’s house.

Maggie glanced at her father, who was still listening to their conversation intently. “Wouldn’t it have been better to just leave him alone then?” she asked. “He didn’t help the boycott, and because of it he lost his mind!”

“Maggie!” she heard her father gasp, chastising for her harsh statement.

Surprisingly, Nick laughed again, this time with more humor behind it. “No, no, she’s outspoken. I like it. But y’all don’t understand. Coming together and doing things like boycotting, that’s our only power to change things. I can’t help it if I’m mad at Butch, always up to no good and ruining everything. It never stops.”

“Even now?” Maggie asked, surprised. She had thought now that the boycott was over, that would be the end of the story.

Nick nodded, “Oh yeah. First, he started a riot, then he goes into hiding. Thornton dropped the issue, so Butch comes slinking back home, going around and begging everyone for work. Of course, no one will take him, even though he promised to rat out anyone else that was part of the boycott. When the last one told him to go away, well, I heard he cried like a baby.” He seemed satisfied with that outcome, though Maggie couldn’t help but think of what effect that would have on Butch’s wife and children. She felt sorry for them, that was for sure.


	23. Chapter 23

_“But maybe there's nothing left to say_

_You're just the grass on a stranger's grave_

_And I'm still ashamed of the wreckage I left in your life”_

-Simple Creatures

**_Maggie_ **

The sirens pierced the air, pulling the attention of everyone in the area. They weren’t an uncommon sound for the city, but the fact that they stayed nearby, getting louder and more urgent by the moment, made Nick and the Hale’s wonder what was going on. They went out to investigate, unsure what they might find.

There were first responders gathered near the river down the street. Maggie’s heart clenched with anxiety, worried about whatever poor soul had met their misfortune in the river. It was usually a child, or maybe someone who wasn’t good at swimming, though there hadn’t been much rain lately, so the waters were definitely on the low side.

Of course, a crowd had gathered at the banks, as much as the police and firemen struggled to keep people back. Maggie edged closer, finally able to catch a glance of the body laid out near the riverbank. She gasped, recognizing the man instantly.

“Poor Butch,” someone in the crowd said, one of the neighbors that also recognized the man, “He just couldn’t take it anymore.”

Nick pushed forward through the crowd. “It can’t be,” he said, “He wouldn’t have the nerve to go through with it.” He looked at the body for a long moment before turning away, unable to bear the sight any longer.

The police arrived, asking if anyone knew the man. Maggie, in a stupor, was the only one that offers up information. No one else seemed willing or able to escort the officers to Butch’s house to collect his wife and identify the body. It was a terrible duty, one she felt ill-equipped to perform, but there was no one else.

No one was surprised at the news, a few days later, that Butch’s wife had followed him in death. The sickly woman had borne such pain and hardship that it seemed almost a blessing if it weren’t for the children they left behind.

Maggie thought she was well and done with policemen for a good long while. Therefore, she was surprised when Dixie came into her room just a few nights later.

“There’s a policeman at the door, Maggie,” Dixie said, her brow furrowed with concern. She just knew this was something to do with Finn.

Looking up from the book she was reading, Maggie answered with her own worried look. “Did he say what he wanted?” she asked.

Dixie shook her head sharply. “No, but I’ve shown him into the front room. You’re the one he wants to talk to, Maggie,” she shuddered as Maggie hopped up, neither of them comfortable with this new turn of events.

The detective had made himself quite at home on the couch by the time Maggie came into the room. After introducing himself, he jumped right into his reason for coming by. I’m sorry to bother you, especially at such a time,” he said, telling Maggie that he knew something about her family and what they had been through recently. “But there has been a death that I’m investigating, a man that sustained injuries after a fall. That fall seems to be the result of an altercation with a man at a Greyhound station…” he paused her, looking at his notes and seeming to gather his courage. “There’s a witness that states the fight was started after the deceased made suggestive comments about a young lady. We have reason to believe that you are the lady in question.”

His words made Maggie’s blood freeze in her veins, though she struggled to keep her facial expression under control. “I was not there,” she said quietly, amazed that her voice sounded calm in contrast with the panic she was feeling.

“The witness said the lady was very beautiful,” he continued as if he hadn’t heard her, “named Maggie, a friend of the Higgins, who he said frequented the Waffle House, which is where he works. You are Maggie and are friends with the Higgins, isn’t that correct?”

She met his eyes with as blank of an expression as she could muster up. “Well, I…” she stumbled, trying to work out what to say. “As much as I’d love to be called ‘very beautiful’,” she saw the detective blush a bit at that, “I’m afraid there has been some mistake. I was not there.”

Nodding, the detective put his notepad away. “Alright then,” he paused, unsure where to go from there.

Maggie could tell that he didn’t believe her. “Is there anything else you need to ask me, Detective?”

He shook his head, looking puzzled. “No, I suppose that’s it.” Turning to leave, he stopped again, “You are absolutely denying that you were the lady at the Greyhound station that night?” he asked one more time.

“Listen, I’m sorry about what happened to… this man. But again, I wasn’t there. It wasn’t me.” She sounded firmer this time, hoping that it would be enough for the detective.

He stared at her for a long moment before nodding. “It’s possible that the witness will insist that you were present at the scene of the incident. If that happens, I may need you to come down to the station, provide an alibi and all that.”

A deep frown creased Maggie’s forehead, but she nodded, not trusting herself to say anything further. Detective Mason walked towards the door, turning one more time before stepping out, as if in afterthought. “I’m sorry if I seem impertinent,” he said. “But I do have to do my duty as an officer of the law.” To Maggie, it sounded like both a warning and a threat.

**_John_ **

He was finishing up work for the day when there was a knock on his office door. “Come in,” he called out, expecting it to be one of his workers or maybe a delivery man. He was surprised to see Mason standing in the doorway. “Oh, hey. What’s up?” he asked, setting aside the papers he had been looking over.

Standing awkwardly, Mason looked around the room. “Remember that body I was going to investigate?” he asked, never quite looking at John.

“Sure, his name was Leonard, wasn’t it?” John said, motioning for his friend to sit down. “Word on the street is he was a terrible drunk, though that’s no excuse for someone to kill him. My sister’s personal trainer was dating him, unfortunately. She’s been a mess all week. Lord knows why she has to be at my house to cry about it, she’s better off without him either way.” He was watching the way Mason sat on the edge of his chair, looking nervous the whole time.

Nodding, Mason finally met John’s eyes. “The girl you were talking about the other night, her name is Maggie, isn’t it? Maggie Hale?”

Hearing her name out of the blue sent waves of pain through John’s heart, but he tried to keep his voice even. “Yes, why do you ask?”

Waiting for Mason to continue, John saw that he was hesitating. “It’s just…” the detective said, after a pause that felt eternal, “it seems like your Maggie is connected to the death of this Leonard guy, somehow.” He got no response from John, just a blank, unblinking stare. “There’s a witness,” Mason continued, “that says he saw Maggie with a man at the Greyhound station that night. He claims it’s the same man who fought with Leonard at the Greyhound station and might have been the cause of his death. I’ve spoken with Maggie; she denies ever being there.” He stopped, waiting to see John’s reaction to this stream of information.

“Are you sure?” John asked quietly, wheels turning in his head as he tried to work out the timeline. “I mean, are you sure the man she was seen with is connected to the death? When was this again, what time?” He didn’t like that puzzle pieces that were falling into place in his mind.

Mason pulled out a notepad to confirm. “It was around 2 a.m. on the 26th,” he said, watching as the color drained from John’s face.

Staring at his hands, John was quiet for a moment. “And she says she wasn’t there?” He asked, struggling to keep the panic from his voice.

“Yep. So, you can see my problem, right?” He sighed. “The witness is very positive that it was Maggie Hale he saw, even after I told him of her denial. I’m afraid this situation is very awkward. I don’t like to doubt the word of a respectable young woman, but I’ll have to do a more thorough investigation.” Mason stood up and paced the floor in front of John’s desk for a moment, hating this part of his job.

John sat back, watching Mason. “She says she was never at the station?” He asked again, just to make sure he had it right.

Sitting back down, Mason nodded. “Yes, she says she was not there that night or any other. I was hoping since you knew her and were a friend of the family…” he trailed off, not sure what he was hoping for. He just knew he didn’t want to have to pry into this woman’s life without talking to John first. Maybe he had some reasonable explanation for the whole thing.

“Right. No, you’re right. I’ll look into it and get back to you.” John stood up and reached out to shake his old friend’s hand. Mason was relieved; he’d been worried John would take the whole thing the wrong way, knowing how volatile he could be under certain circumstances. He was glad to pass off that responsibility for a little while, at least.

Peace and quiet were in short supply at the Thornton’s home. While John and his mother sat at the table working quietly on their own duties, the silence was punctuated by sobbing that could be heard all the way from Faith’s room. “Why is Jane here?” He finally asked in frustration. “Doesn’t she have her own home to wail at? She’s better off without that Leonard guy, anyway.”

Mrs. Thornton shot her son a scathing look, shocked at his lack of compassion, but chose not to justify Jane’s presence at their house. “You know what they are saying about Maggie. Out in the middle of the night in some liaison with a strange man, getting involved with characters like Leonard.” She raised her eyebrows in suggestion of all the uncivilized things the girl could have been up to.

It seemed to John that there was no escape from reminders of Maggie. When all he wanted to do was throw himself into his work and try to forget about her, she was constantly pulled back into his mind. Not that she ever left in the first place, really. “I do not know or care what they are saying,” he said angrily before getting up and stomping to the music room to drown out the crying that still echoed through the house.

**_Maggie_ **

Every hour that passed made Maggie more anxious as she went without word from the detective. She wasn’t sure if it was a good or a bad sign, though she had never been a firm believer in ‘no news is good news’. She had started to form a plan of fleeing to Mexico to stay with her brother when the detective appeared on her doorstep a few days later.

“Sorry to have kept you waiting,” he said, declining her invitation to have a seat. She decided to remain standing as well. “I had a few other people to speak to before a final decision was made. It seems that there is to be no further investigation into Leonard’s death at this time.”

The breath was knocked out of Maggie, forcing her to sit down. She closed her eyes for a moment before looking back up at the detective. “So that’s it then? The case is closed?” She wasn’t sure how that had happened so quickly.

She could tell that Detective Mason was not exactly pleased with this development. “Yes, after interviewing the witness and speaking with John–” 

“John?” Maggie interrupted him. “John Thornton?”

With an annoyed look, the detective nodded slowly. “Yes, he was also seen in the area that night. And he is a friend of mine. I thought he might have seen you or the deceased, so I talked to him about the… difficulties.” He pulled a note out of his pocket, frowning at it before handing it to her.

It was John’s writing on the page, a brief note stating clearly that he had not seen Maggie or anyone else at the station. She could hardly believe it, that he would lie so boldly to the authorities. All for her. “And John, I mean, Mr. Thornton, he understood that I wasn’t there? It wasn’t me at the station?” She looked up to see the detective staring at her so intensely that it made her uncomfortable.

“Yes,” he said tersely. “I apologize for seeming to doubt you,” he shook his head, still looking puzzled at the whole thing. “The witness was so sure. But now he knows he was mistaken. Hopefully, we haven’t caused any offense with all this trouble.” Detective Mason accepted the hand that Maggie offered to him as she led him to the door. “Have a good one, then,” he said.

Sagging against the door in relief, Maggie looked up to see Dixie standing in the hall, concern written on her face. “It’s okay. It’s over. Everything is okay.” Maggie only wished it were true. 

**_John_ **

The man behind the counter smiled and waved at John as he walked into the Waffle House. John gave him a friendly smile before settling into his usual stool at the bar. “What’ll you have, then? Too late for coffee?” The big man seemed to never age, looking the same as he had when John used to come here for breakfast with his father as a child. The cook was probably wearing the same grease-stained apron, too. 

It was well after midnight. John had been wracking his brain for an explanation for hours, before finally deciding to come to speak to the witness himself. He knew it must be Arnie; John had seen the man himself that night, even spoken a few words to him. There had been no one else around that he had noticed.

“I probably shouldn’t,” John said, scanning the menu for an alternative. He smiled suddenly, a memory surfacing at the sight of the unchanged menu. “How about a hot chocolate?” 

Arnie grinned. “Well if that doesn’t take me back. Want a chocolate chip waffle to go with it?” It had been his go-to order as a kid. John was surprised the cook remembered so many years later. It had been years since John had ordered that combination.

It sounded good, too. “Sure, why not?” The restaurant was almost empty, with just a couple other patrons sitting in the booths and a younger girl washing dishes. The jukebox was playing the old country songs that added to the strong sense of nostalgia washing over John. 

“So, what brings you in tonight, Johnny Boy?” Arnie asked as he sat the waffle and hot chocolate down in front of him. Leaning on the counter, he watched as John drowned the waffle in syrup.

John looked around, noticing that no one else was paying them any attention. “What makes you think I have a particular reason?” He asked, knowing the older man was smarter than his position in life let on.

A quick snort told John he was right. “First that detective comes in asking questions, and now you. That’s no coincidence, I’m sure.”

“You’re right,” he admitted, “I wanted to talk to you about what you saw at the station.” The other man looked undisturbed by this; he just nodded knowingly. “Mason said you saw a woman there that night.” 

Arnie nodded again. “Yep, that Maggie girl who was always with the Higgins kids. I never forget the ones that I serve their first Waffle House waffle, you know. Just like I served yours.” John could tell that meant something to special to the man. “Before you say anything,” Arnie continued, “Yes, I’m sure, no, I wasn’t seeing things. Now, what that all means is beyond me, but them’s the facts as I know them.”

Chewing slowly, John tried to think how to proceed. “I believe you,” he said. The other man looked surprised. “That’s not quite what I came to ask. See… I don’t think Maggie was involved in the man’s death. No, I’m sure she wasn’t. I can’t tell you how I know, but I do.” He took another bite to give himself more time to think.

He was surprised to see a small smile on Arnie’s face. “Oh, that’s how it is then. Well, in that case, I must have been mistaken. It must not have been Maggie that I saw that night.” He laughed at the look of shock that John wore. “Come on, son. I was young once, too. Don’t worry, we’ll have this all worked out in a jiffy.”

John couldn’t believe it was that easy. Just like that, the problem was solved. Maggie and her father were safe from further scrutiny. His conscience pricked at him for the lies. He hoped he was right, that Maggie really wasn’t involved in the death of that drunkard. Otherwise, he wasn’t sure he could live with himself.

**_Maggie_ **

The knock on the door pulled Maggie out of her brooding thoughts of John and his reasons for helping her. As if she conjured him up, there he was on their doorstep. “John,” she said, surprised but glad that he was there. Her father had been missing his company very much. She knew it would do him well to spend time with John, playing piano and talking like they used to.

“Maggie,” he said stiffly, waiting for her to invite him in.

She realized they had been standing there much longer than necessary. “Oh! Come on in,” she said finally, motioning inside. “Dad is in the music room.”

All she got in reply was a nod. She watched as he turned to go, seemingly eager to leave her presence. Maggie had thought his intervention with the police meant something. That maybe he still cared for her, that he had forgiven her for the things she said before. 

She felt desperate, realizing how wrong she was. “John,” she said quickly, stopping him in his tracks. She could see his back straighten before he turned, his features arranged into a mask of indifference, hiding whatever he might be thinking. “I need to thank you,” she said, the words feeling wholly inadequate once out of her mouth. There was no way to express the gratitude in her heart. There was something else there, too, something she couldn’t even begin to understand, much less put into words.

When his eyes finally met hers, she could see the fire behind them. “No,” he said so forcefully that she wanted to shrink back. “Don’t thank me.” In just a couple steps of his long stride, he was directly in front of her, full of energy and barely restrained anger. “Do you even realize the position you’ve put yourself in, the danger? You don’t have any explanation for what happened that night or your behavior since then? I thought I knew you, but now I don’t know what to believe anymore.”

The anger pouring off him was almost a physical force, one Maggie didn’t have it in her to match. She didn’t have an explanation; she knew she was wrong. There was nothing she could say to make him understand. “Please, John… I can’t imagine what you must be thinking of me. I know how bad this all looks, but… The man I was with, he, well.” She stopped herself short of telling him everything. If only she could explain, layout the whole story for him to see. But she couldn’t; aside from the danger to Finn, Maggie was sure John would hate her after hearing what her brother had done, abandoning his duty to his country and his family. “It’s not my secret to tell. I can’t explain without hurting him, too,” she finished, looking down.

It was quiet for a moment. She looked up and saw John’s steely gaze was still firmly fixed on her. “John? Is that you?” Her father called from the music room, breaking the silence that had settled between them. “Come on back!” He sounded excited at the prospect of spending time with his young friend.

“I don’t have the slightest desire to pry into another man’s secrets,” John said, his voice quiet but still filled with force. “I am only worried as your father’s friend, that’s all. I hope you realize that any ridiculous feelings I had for you are completely over. I’m moving on.” With that he turned on his heel and walked down the hall, not looking back to see the effect his words had on Maggie. She was left standing there, staring after him, feeling strangely empty at the loss of his presence.

**_John_ **

There was no way to avoid visiting the Hale’s with good conscience. John thought he had already left it too long, had abandoned his friend when he was needed most. The dread in his chest at seeing Maggie again sat like an anvil, weighing him down more and more the closer he got to their house. He hoped that she wouldn’t be home, that by the grace of God he would be able to avoid seeing her.

No such luck. Of course, she was the one who opened the door. “Dad is in the music room,” she said softly after their awkward greeting. He just nodded and went to move down the hallway, wanting their interaction to be over as quickly as possible. “John,” she said before he could escape. He stopped, taking a moment to gather himself. He wasn’t sure he could face her much longer without letting his feelings slip out. Carefully, he kept his face as blank as possible as he turned around.

“I need to thank you.” He wasn’t sure what he expected her to say, but that caught him off guard. It wasn’t what he wanted to hear; he wanted an explanation, some reason for the things that had happened over the last few days, not her useless gratitude.

She visibly balked when he spoke. “Don’t thank me.” John felt like a floodgate had been opened, letting all of his anger and confusion pour out at once. “I thought I knew you, but now I don’t know what to believe anymore.” There was so much more he wanted to say, but he stopped himself. Maggie looked like a scolded schoolgirl. He could tell there would be no explanation coming.

Standing so close to her was disorienting. It was a mistake to close the distance between them; he would have been better off on the other side of the room. “Please, John.” His heart wrenched as she begged him to understand. Yet she was asking too much. This wasn’t something he could just let go based on her assurances that things weren’t as they seemed. It was all too much.

Mr. Hale’s interruption was perfectly timed. John wasn’t sure what he would have said if the silence had stretched out much longer. “I hope you realize that any ridiculous feelings I had for you are completely over. I’m moving on.” He turned away before he could see what sort of damage his words caused. If she looked unaffected, that would break him. Yet he also couldn’t bear to see her hurt. They were all lies, anyway.


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is just a friendly reminder that you can find the playlist of the songs from the beginning of the chapters here: https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLzo8ckv0bFAyKzv9ndrCMKhTT90H6Oomd
> 
> If you're into that sort of thing.
> 
> It's hard to believe that we're over 3/4 of the way through!

**Chapter 24**

_“I can’t say just what I mean,_

_because it isn’t just one thing_

_how many endings can you take_

_your smile has slowly faded away_

_I didn’t mean to let you feel so safe,_

_you didn’t want to let me get away”_

-Modern Chemistry

**_John_ **

It was one of those rare early fall days that it wasn’t blistering hot, a tease of the true fall to come. John had opened the windows of his office at The Mill while he waited for Williams to appear. They had made plans to grab a drink and check-in. He was grateful to have his old friend back regularly now.

A voice from outside caught his attention. “What are you doing here? Go on! You think you’re welcome around here after all you’ve done?” It was Williams, and he sounded angry.

John stuck his head out the window to see what was going on. He caught Nick’s eye just before he slunk down the driveway. He must have been hanging out by the stairs before Williams ran him off. John hoped he hadn’t been up to any sort of mischief, though he didn’t think Nick would stoop that low.

“What was that all about?” He asked Williams once he came inside.

The other man shook his head. “He was just sitting on the stairs, probably waiting for you to come out, I guess. It was that Higgins fellow, the one that used to work here.”

John thought it was strange that he was just sitting there instead of coming inside or at least knocking. “Did he say what he wanted?”

“Does it matter? Can’t have been anything worthwhile.” Williams shrugged. “Come on, I need a drink.”

Sighing, John stood up, closing the account book he had been staring at for hours. He could use a drink, too, considering he had been working on the budget all day and it still wasn’t coming out right. He had a meeting with his banker the next day, one he was dreading. John tried to put that all out of his mind as he followed his friend down the hall, locking The Mill behind them.  

Williams insisted on going to a club, though John wasn’t exactly in the mood. “Are you ever in the mood?” Williams asked him jokingly in response. So, they went, the dark club pulsing with a life of its own. John set himself up in a corner at the far end of the bar, watching the people dance as if they hadn’t a care in the world. He wished his life were so carefree. Instead, he sipped his scotch and waited until Williams told him it was time to go.

**_Maggie_ **

The Hale’s house was already almost tucked in for the night when there was a knock on the door. Dixie was closest to the door, so she stood up to answer it. “The Higgins boy is here to see you,” she said, leading Nick into the music room where Maggie and her father were reading quietly.

“Oh, Nick! Come on in,” Maggie jumped up, pulling a chair closer in so he could make himself at home.

As they settled in with some brownies Maggie had baked earlier, Nick got to the point of his visit. “I’ve been trying to find a job,” he said sadly, “but no one around will hire me. I’m trying to lie low, not make waves, behave, all that. I wouldn’t worry about it so much if it weren’t for Butch’s children.” Maggie and her father looked surprised at that. “Oh, me and Mary have taken them in for the time being, at least until they can find a long-term foster family,” he explained.

Maggie was surprised but pleased at this new development. She was worried about what would happen to the kids after their parents died. She made a mental note to check in with them soon and help in any way she could. “I have an idea in my head,” Nick continued. “But I think I need your help.” He was looking at Mr. Hale.

“Me? Of course, I’m glad to help, but I’m not sure what I can do.” Mr. Hale was puzzled as to what this young man could possibly be thinking.

Taking a deep breath, Nick started to explain. “Well, Maggie is always talking about how great it is up north. I was thinking, if I can make it up there where there are jobs to be had and no one knows me, then I could find something.”

Maggie was already shaking her head before her father started to answer. “What kind of work are you looking for?” Mr. Hale asked.

“I’m pretty good with my hands, so I can build things if there’s a need for that,” Nick said.

The thought of Nick living up north, doing construction work, was absolutely ridiculous to Maggie. “You can’t leave Atlanta and move up north!” She burst out, not waiting to hear her father’s next words. “You would die of boredom, it would eat you alive.” She hated his disappointed look as he considered her opinion. “Have you gone to The Mill and asked for your old job back?”

Nick snorted. “Yeah, I’ve been to see Thornton. His pal Williams kicked me out, told me I didn’t belong around there.” He looked more hurt by that than his nonchalant tone implied.

“Would you try one more time?” She asked earnestly. “I really think if you were just able to talk to John… he would help you, if you give him the chance.”

Both men seemed as if they weren’t so sure. “I think I’d rather starve,” Nick joked, giving Maggie a sad smile. “Well, if y’all think of anything, let me know.” He left them with heavier hearts and a lot to think about.

They sat in silence for a moment before Mr. Hale finally spoke. “He is a proud man, that’s for sure. Though, I admire the tenacity of these southern men. Maybe it’s not so bad down here, after all, is it Magpie?”

Unable to shake her displeasure at the way the visit had ended, Maggie sighed. “If only he would talk to John, man to man. If he could forget about the boycott and speak from his heart, I know John would listen.”

Mr. Hale gave a small laugh. “Lord, Maggie, first you admit that the north isn’t perfect and now that John isn’t all bad. What’s happened to make you change your mind?” He didn’t catch the sadness in his daughter’s answering smile.

**_John_ **

After spending all night tossing and turning, the last thing John wanted was to meet with Mr. Latimer to discuss finances. He cursed to himself as he stopped by The Mill to grab his account books. What had he been thinking, making this dreaded meeting first thing in the morning? It was usually better to get things over with, true, but he felt haggard and worn out. There was no doubt that he looked as bad as he felt.

“Thornton,” he heard someone calling as he rushed out of his office. “I need to talk to you.” It was Nick, waiting outside the gate as if he’d been watching him.

The thought made him even more uneasy. “I can’t talk now,” he said quickly, locking the doors and sidestepping Nick, hardly glancing in his direction. There wasn’t time to even think about dealing with him.

He paced anxiously in Mr. Latimer’s office as he waited for his banker to come in for their meeting. The older man took one look at him and motioned for John to follow him. “Come on, let’s go get some breakfast. It’s an ungodly hour to start working, anyway.” John felt he had no choice but to follow the banker down the street to a diner.

“You’ve seen your latest statement, then?” Mr. Latimer said finally over a cup of steaming coffee.

John nodded, looking for answers in the bottom of his own mug. “I had hoped to pay down some of the loan by now,” he said, feeling his cheeks heat up.

Shrugging, Mr. Latimer took a big bite of bacon. “It’s too bad that you’ve got so much money tied up in the new sound system,” he said eventually.

“The new sound system was necessary,” John interjected. “We had bookings almost every night. That wouldn’t last without fixing the sound quality. Obviously, I wasn’t planning on the roof needing repairs.”

The banker shrugged again as if none of that was his problem. “Well, things have been back to normal for some time now,” he said, raising his eyebrows as if to ask what the problem was.

The implication that this was somehow John’s fault made him angry, though he tried to control his temper. “With the boycott and everything, things have just fallen behind. It doesn’t seem like we’ll catch back up until…” he trailed off, remembering the dire status of his budget. “Well. I don’t know if we will catch up at all,” he finished, ashamed. Maybe this was all his fault after all.

“The bank can extend your loan some,” Mr. Latimer said with a grim smile. “It won’t be much, though, and you’ll have to be careful.”

John looked up sharply. “I don’t think anyone would ever accuse me of being careless,” he said angrily before sighing. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what else I could have done to prevent this, or where to go from here.” How desperately he wished there was some guiding influence in his life to tell him what to do, someone like a father. Mr. Latimer was not that man.

As the waitress dropped off their check, Mr. Latimer considered the young businessman. “You know, there are other ways to earn some money, investment type deals. I could let you know when I hear of a promising one.”

That was out of the question for John. “Play the stock market? I won’t risk everything on some get rich quick scheme.”

Mr. Latimer stood up with a sigh. “Well, if things keep on the way they’re going, you might have nothing left to risk, anyway.” His words cut to the very core of John’s own thoughts.

**_Maggie_ **

A knock on the door startled Maggie out of the haze she had fallen under while editing pictures on her laptop. She’d been staring at the same picture for half an hour, lost in her own thoughts and not getting any real work done. She jumped up to see who was there, surprised to see Mrs. Thornton on the doorstep. “Mrs. Thornton, how nice of you to come by. Dad is out running errands, but I’m sure he’ll appreciate the thought as well.” Maggie wasn’t sure what the older woman was doing in her house, but her presence made her anxious. “And thank you for the card you sent, we are very grateful for everyone’s kind words. Oh, my cousin sent me information on a new workout craze that I thought Faith might be interested in, here, let me find it,” she babbled on, moving towards her laptop to search for Eden’s email.

“Maggie,” Mrs. Thornton interrupted, forcing Maggie to pause. “I’m afraid I didn’t come here to discuss Faith’s exercise routine. There is something I need to say.” She stopped a moment before stiffening her already perfect posture. “I promised your mother that if I felt you needed advice or had made some mistake, that I would help you. So, when I heard about you sneaking around, getting involved with unscrupulous characters, well, I thought it would only be right to warn you against such things. You wouldn’t be the first young woman to turn down a dark path after getting tied up with such things…”

Maggie could hardly believe what she was hearing. For this woman to come to her home and trash-talk her family, it was unthinkable. “Mrs. Thornton,” she said firmly, “I’m sure my mother never meant for you to come here and insult me like this.” She shot the older woman a haughty glare. “Whatever John might have told you…” She trailed off. Just saying his name out loud shot a bolt of pain through her heart.

The pained expression on Maggie’s face didn’t escape Mrs. Thornton’s notice. “My son hasn’t told me anything,” she spat back. “You don’t know anything about him, the kind of man he is, the one you so cruelly shot down. If he knows anything about all this, he’s kept it to himself, as a man should.”

“Of course,” Maggie deflated, sinking back into the couch. “I shouldn’t have doubted that. I can’t give you any explanation, other than to say that the things I’ve done wrong are not the ones you imagine.” She didn’t owe this woman any explanation, either, but still hated the thought that everyone had it in their minds that she was dealing drugs or whatever else nonsense they could conjure up.

Mrs. Thornton continued watching her with eagle eyes. “I didn’t approve of John’s attraction towards you, and I certainly didn’t see the appeal. He deserves so much better. But I was prepared, for his sake, to deal with it. Your actions during the riot made everyone think… then when he came to talk to you, you’d already had a change of heart!” She seemed truly disturbed by Maggie’s treatment of her son. “Maybe this other man had something to do with it,” she finished, leaving room for Maggie to explain herself.

She would have to keep waiting if she expected anything else from Maggie. “You must have a very low opinion of me,” Maggie said, crossing her arms in irritation.

There was something almost cruel behind Mrs. Thornton’s eyes when she spoke again. “I won’t say I’m sad that things didn’t work out between you and John. Especially now, when you’re the talk of the town.”

“Excuse me!” Maggie jumped off the couch and stalked to the door, opening it wide and motioning outside. “I will not sit here and listen to you continuing to insult me. I’d like for you to go, now.” Mrs. Thornton’s mouth opened in shock as she stood up. Maggie slammed the door in her face without another word.

**_John_ **

Lost in thought, John meandered back to The Mill, with little hope of getting any actual work done. He was so caught up in his own brooding that he almost tripped over Nick, who had set himself up under the stairs, waiting for John to come back. Nick might have dozed off a bit since he hadn’t been sleeping well ever since the boycott ended. “Higgins! Why are you still here?” John’s startled voice woke him up. He didn’t sound angry, just confused.

“Oh, hey. I told you, I wanted to talk to you,” Nick gave his old boss a half-smile before standing up.

John sighed, too tired to fight at the moment. “Alright, I guess you should come in then.” Nick followed him inside and settled himself in a chair in John’s office. “Well, what is it?”

Fidgeting with the cuffs of his shirt, Nick took a breath, preparing himself. “I’ve come to ask for a job.”

“A Job?” John leaned forward, making sure he had heard correctly. “You’ve got a lot of nerve coming here and asking for a job.”

It was exactly the answer he’d been expecting, and Nick wasn’t quite sure he had a good rebuttal. “You know I’m a good worker, and you could use the help.” He said, knowing that it would not be enough.

John shook his head in disbelief. “That’s probably the kindest thing I could say about you,” he said. “I almost lost everything thanks to you and your boycott, and now you think I should give you another chance? Might as well set fire to The Mill and call it a day.” The stress of his meeting with Mr. Latimer had already worn his patience paper-thin. Nick showing up and asking for help was more than his temper could bear.

Under normal circumstances, Nick would never let someone talk to him so harshly, not unless they wanted a fight on their hands. But these circumstances were far from normal, and he wasn’t sure he could take Thornton in a fight, regardless. “I promise,” he said, deciding to give it one more chance. “I wouldn’t speak out against you or the other owners. If I had any issues, I’d come talk to you before doing anything else.”

An ugly sneer crossed John’s face as he listened to Nick’s promises. “And how do I know you’re not just cooking up another scheme, or trying to save up money just so you can boycott again?” He wasn’t one to be fooled more than once, and they had been down this road before. What had changed?

“I need work,” Nick said simply, choosing to ignore the insult in John’s words and expression. “For the children of a man who was so desperate he took his own life. He lost all hope after his bar was blacklisted, couldn’t get anyone to come drink or play after all that.”

Of course, John knew who he was talking about. The unfortunate outcome pricked at his conscience already without having to consider Butch’s children. “Your boycotters forced us to make those decisions!” He burst out, standing up and slamming his fists on his desk. Nick didn’t even flinch. “Not that any of it did any good. Things have slowed back down again.” He turned towards the bookshelves behind his desk, taking a deep breath in an attempt to calm down. “If I believed your reasons for coming here,” he turned back towards Nick, “Which I’m not sure I’m inclined to do. Why don’t you go outside the city to find work?” He realized the man must be desperate if he was here begging for a job.

The sudden turn in John’s demeanor caught him off guard. “Well, if I thought I could make it work, I’d move out to the country and never look back. But I couldn’t take care of those kids on that kind of money, and I won’t leave them here to fend for themselves. Right now, I’ll take any job I can get.” Nick wasn’t sure why he was still there pleading his case when he knew it was of no use.

“Oh, so you’ll do work others aren’t willing to, then?” John asked haughtily. “You can’t boycott a McDonald’s, at least not successfully. Your _comrades_ rioted at my house when I was just working to feed my own family, yet you’re here begging for work for the sake of someone else’s kids?” He sat back down, the weight of his words sitting heavily on his shoulders now that he’d let them out. John hadn’t realized just how angry he was with Nick until just that moment. “I won’t give you a job, you’re wasting your time.”

Nick smiled grimly, recognizing that John was well and done with the conversation. “And yours, I suppose. Someone told me to come and speak to you personally. She said you were more understanding than I gave you credit for, but obviously, she was mistaken.” He shrugged, pushing himself out of his chair with a sigh. “I’m not the first person to be misled by a woman.”

Looking up sharply, John scowled. “You can tell her to mind her own business, then, and stop wasting all of our time.” Nick gave a small salute in response, turning to leave. He almost collided with Williams on his way out; the two men barely acknowledged each other.

“Good lord, I guess he finally was able to talk to you, huh?” Williams asked as he came in, noticing how worn out his old friend looked. He walked over to a cabinet and pulled out a bottle of scotch, pouring two generous glasses.

There was a small smile on John’s tired face as he accepted the glass. “Jesus, Andy, it’s only two o’clock.” But he sipped at it anyway, full of appreciation for the way it scorched down his throat. “How did you know he wanted to talk to me?”

Williams sprawled into a chair, barely managing to save his own glass from spilling. “Ah, I came by earlier to see if you were back yet, and he was waiting outside.”

In an attempt to clear his head, John had taken a walk after his meeting with the banker. “He must have been waiting most of the day, then,” he murmured, more to himself than to Williams. The other man stayed silent, knowing better than to interrupt his old friend while the wheels were turning in his head as they were now.

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve also posted this on Wattpad, with some inspiration imagines to kind of set the scene/mood for those who haven’t been to Atlanta or just want some extra info on the vibe. I’m kind of adding as I go, so I’ll post photos as the inspiration hits, not necessarily just with updates. It also now includes a Youtube playlist to go with each chapter.
> 
> Any way, here’s the link if y’all are interested: https://my.w.tt/Jc7HflFJgT 
> 
> Otherwise, disregard this message!


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